A Different Love (BK2)
by bellamysgirl
Summary: everything was going to be different now. but still, holding her closely and looking into her eyes, he said, "i love you." and meant it. [Sequel to A Different Breed] Steve/OC. AU.
1. The Ex

Harper dried her hair and exited the bathroom. Upon leaving, she heard an unfamiliar voice from downstairs. It was female—she could tell that much. She slid her hair behind her ears and went to the stairs. As she started down them, she saw the owner of the unfamiliar voice.

It was a tall, thin woman with dark hair. She wore casual beach clothing and an appeasing smile. Halfway down the stairs, Harper slowed to a stop, and Steve finally noticed Harper was even there. "Harper," he said, trying to internalize the slight awkwardness of the situation. The woman looked at Harper with a polite smile. "Harper, this is Catherine."

Harper recognized the name, and she tried not to let her expression falter. She hopped down the rest of the steps and held out her hand to Catherine. "Nice to meet you. Harper Kelly," Harper said, keeping her smile bright. Catherine shook her hand. "I think I've heard that name before," Catherine said, thinking.

Harper pulled her hand back and slid both hands into her shorts' pockets. "Have you watched the news lately?" Harper asked, lightly. "You probably heard it there."

"Oh! Yes, I saw your picture," Catherine said, recalling her morning news. Harper bobbed her head in a small nod, and she glanced at Steve. Steve tried not to act anything but casual. He wanted both girls to get along and opening his mouth about past relationships—or even hinting with a facial expression—could ruin that.

Harper remembered hearing Catherine's name before. And in fact she had. Mary had mentioned a Catherine in one of their discussions over coffee. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard, clearing her throat. "I think I'll just, um...go...outside," Harper said, slipping out the front door.

"Harper, wait-" Steve sighed ruefully as his words were cut off from the door shutting. He turned to Catherine. "Just give me a second, okay? I'll be right back," he said, to which she nodded. He hurried out the door. Harper took in a few deep breaths, walking down the driveway. "Harper, wait!" Steve called after her, hurrying up behind her.

Harper turned around to face him, and he stopped in his tracks a foot from her. "Did you know she was coming?" Harper asked, sniffling. "Did you know your ex-girlfriend was going to show up at your house?"

"What? No! I had no idea Catherine was going to be here," Steve said, trying desperately to keep his cool.

"So you don't deny she was your girlfriend," Not a question. She knew the answer, he knew the answer. Harper crossed her arms. "Why didn't you mention her? That she might be here, out of the blue?"

Steve sighed. "I had no way of knowing if she was even alive, Harper," he said. He took a few steps toward her. "Please...come back inside with me."

"And do what? Have a chat with your ex?" Harper asked, slipping acid into her tone.

"Don't do that. Don't make it out like this is about you," he said. She shook her head lightly and looked away from him. "What am I even supposed to say to her? It's obvious she came here for you," she said, glancing at him a second. "Look, just- you sort it out, okay? I need some air anyway." She turned away from him completely, starting down the sidewalk. "Harper," he called after her. "Harper, come on. Don't do this." She kept walking, ignoring him, and he sighed.

She continued down the sidewalk, following it as far as it would take her. Eventually she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Danny's number. He answered on the third ring, as she stopped at a street corner. "Hello?"

"Hey, Danny, it's Harper," she said, sniffling a little.

"Hey, Harper. Is everything okay? Where's Steve?" he asked.

"Everything's fine, but, um...can you come pick me up?" she asked, fighting the water rising in her eyes. There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Yeah, of course. I'll be there in a few minutes, okay?" he said. "Just stay there."

"Okay, thanks," she nodded, before hanging up. She had so many things swirling around in her head, so many anchors tied to her heart. It was all she could do not to let one little, inconsequential thing break her into a sobbing fit. She sat on the edge of the curb and dropped her head in her hands.

She'd wanted to go inside with Steve. She truly did, but something made her leave. There was no way she could tell what it was. But she was a bottle of fear and anxiety. There was no telling what would set her off at any given moment. And the thought of having a conversation with Catherine at that precise moment didn't seem like a good idea.

After a few minutes of sitting, Danny's car pulled up a few feet from her. She stood and walked over to the passenger side, opening the door and sliding in. As soon as the door shut they were driving. Danny kept glancing at Harper, watching her expression change slightly as her internal battle raged on. "You okay?" he finally asked, after a few minutes of driving.

She shook her head in response, keeping her eyes focused out the window. Danny knew she just got out of the hospital. Something must have gone wrong at Steve's house. But he couldn't tell what. It was most certainly not a break-up. He ruled that out almost instantly.

With a sigh through his nose, he pulled over and cut the engine. He turned slightly in his seat to better face Harper. "Is there something you wanna talk about?" he asked, gently. Harper bent forward, dropping her face into her hands, resting her elbows on her knees. A few tears seeped out, and Danny put a hand on her shoulder blade. "Hey, hey. Harper, what happened?" he asked.

She sat up and sniffled hard, wiping at her eyes momentarily. She looked out the window as she spoke. "Catherine—the ex-girlfriend Steve neglected to mention—showed up today. Just another thing added to the list," she said, with a humorless chuckle.

"The list?" he asked. "What are you talking about?"

"How coincidental that she shows up the day after I find out I might not be able to have children," she said, bitter tears burning her cheeks.

"Harper, those two things have nothing to do with each other," he pointed out. She nodded slowly, unbelieving, obviously holding back a bigger wave of tears. Holding them back seemed useless. After all, she felt safe with Danny. A small sob rattled her whole body, leaving her shaking with tears. "Why are you crying?" he asked, softly.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. The tears blurred her vision. "I don't know...I just- I'm just so angry."

"Who are you angry at? Steve?" he asked. She shook her head. "Then who?"

"If I hadn't have stolen Derek's keycard, no one would've gotten hurt," she said, glancing at him. "If I hadn't suggested escaping, Matt would still be alive right now. That's on me—no one else. But now Matt's- Matt's dead and Derek's d-dead and...it's all my fault, it's all my fault, Danny." She cried harder as she spoke. Danny's heart broke just looking at Harper. "You couldn't have known that would happen. You can't blame yourself," he said.

"Why not? If not mine, then whose fault is it?" she asked, her voice full of anger and grief. "He died trying to get _me_ out alive, Danny! How am I supposed to live with myself knowing that?"

"I don't know," he said. "I wish I had an answer. I wish I could say something or do something to make you stop hurting—but I can't."

"I don't know who I am anymore," she said, hopelessly staring out her window.

"Harper," he said, catching her attention. She turned to look at him and he held out his arms. "Come here." She willingly wrapped her arms around him in a hug, and she cried lightly into his shoulder. "You can get through this. It may seem impossible right now, but I swear that you can," he said, encouragingly. "And I'm gonna be with you through every step, okay? If you need me, I'm already there."

"T-thank y-you-u," she said, her words broken from tears. They sat there a while in silence. He knew she needed to get the tears out and not bottle them away to go home. So he stayed with her, in an unbreakable embrace, until she was sure she could stop crying. She pulled back from him and sniffled, wiping away the drying water on her face. "Do you feel better?" he asked her, genuinely.

She nodded a little, and he nodded as well. "Good. I think you should talk to Steve," he said. "If anything, you at least need to tell him the last half of what you told me."

"Okay. Tell me something, Danny...how do you tell someone you won't be able to give them a family?" she asked, her eyes too dry to cry anymore. "Is there a guide book I can buy?"

"Give it some time. Give yourself some time. Then tell him when you know for sure, alright?" he said. She nodded and he slowly started the engine. By the time they pulled up in front of Steve's house, it was dark out. Danny cut the engine, parked at the base of the driveway. He sighed and turned to look at Harper. She inhaled deeply and nodded once.

She unclipped her seatbelt. "Thank you for this, Danny," she said, looking at him a second. "I needed to vent. I'm sorry for dumping my load on you."

"Don't worry about me," he waved it away, with a small smile. She nodded, returning the small smile. Then she pushed open the door and slid out, shutting it behind her. She took in a deep breath as she started up the driveway, toward the front door. An icy wind blew and she pulled her open button-down closed over her middle.

She stepped up to the door and knocked twice, then stepped back. It was late, but the porch light was still on. The inside lights were still on. A second after she knocked, the door pulled open quickly. Steve inwardly sighed in relief. "Hey," Harper said, nervously. He noticed she seemed shaky. Her eyes looked near bloodshot, and she looked oddly nervous. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" he asked. He'd honestly forgotten about her running out. He was just overjoyed to see that she was in fact safe, and nothing had happened to her. Not that her running out mattered to him. At least, not in the way she was thinking it did. "I was being really stupid," she said, looking down at her feet. "I just- I had a lot on my mind and-"

"Harper, don't," he said, stepping out on the porch with her. He slid his hand on her cheeks, forcing her to look up at him. "You've been through enough. I should be the one apologizing. Okay?" She nodded and he pulled her into his arms. "Why don't you come inside, get some sleep?" he suggested.

She nodded against his chest, before pulling away. "Okay," she said. He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her inside, though it wasn't necessary, and shut the door behind them.


	2. Maoli Ipo (True Love)

With a short, grumbling sigh, Harper adjusted her position under the covers. She was still mostly asleep and it was noon. Normally Harper would be freaking out that she'd slept in and would be already out the door to do something she didn't possess the energy for. But, given the circumstances, she thought it was fine to sleep in.

Suddenly she had a thought, and she propped herself on an elbow. She twisted to see over her shoulder at the left side of the bed. She'd half expected that it would be empty, but there he was, right where she'd left him. The night before, Harper was having trouble sleeping. So—with Harper's consent—Steve laid beside her until she felt safe enough to sleep.

Harper carefully turned over, as not to upset the stitches in her side, and laid her head back down on the pillow. Steve was sleeping facing Harper, and she took this moment to just look. She noticed he always looked peaceful when he slept. "You're staring," he suddenly mumbled, eyes still closed.

Harper grinned lightly. "I'm not staring. I'm gazing."

"It's creepy," he said, unmoving. Harper rose on her elbow and pulled her pillow out from behind her, then smacked his middle with it as hard as she could. "It's romantic," she corrected. He pulled his eyes open and gave her a look, causing her to chuckle a little. "You really wanna go there?" he asked, a playful undertone to his voice. She smirked, momentarily raising an eyebrow. As he reached behind him for his pillow, Harper took to offense—pounding him into oblivion.

Laughing, he fought back with his own pillow. They both laughed as they smacked each other with their pillows. Steve was getting the upper hand, and Harper tucked and rolled off the side of the bed, landing on all fours. Deep into the game, Steve rolled off his own side, doing the same. Harper poked her head above the edge of the bed slowly, just before he did.

They stared at each other a minute. Then Harper made the mistake of glancing at the bedroom door, and he was onto her. She bolted to her feet and dashed for the door. Steve was on her tail, only seconds behind her. She made it out the door and a small squeal escaped her as she hurried down the stairs.

He caught up to her at the bottom of the stairs, and he wrapped his arms around her to stop her. She was laughing so hard it hurt. With the speed they were both going, they managed to topple onto the couch in a pile. Steve was careful to make sure Harper ended up on top, as not to hurt her.

Still laughing, Harper brushed the hair out her face enough to see. "Okay," she wheezed, her laughter fizzling out now. "No more pillow fights for you, buddy." As she said 'buddy' she patted his chest for sarcastic emphasis, and he barked a laugh. "I need breakfast," she said, with a tone of sarcasm as she slid off of him. He pulled himself up to stand and grabbed her wrist before she wandered off.

He tugged, pulling her back around to face him. She raised an eyebrow and he placed a small, light kiss on her lips. "It's nice to see you smile," he said, smiling down at her. A small smile crept onto her face and she rose on her tip toes to kiss him. His arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her against his chest, and she draped her arms around his neck.

Only a second passed, and they were interrupted by the sound of Steve's cell phone buzzing. Harper pulled back with a sigh and he pulled his phone from his pocket. He answered, "McGarrett."

"Hey, it's Danny," Danny said, on the other end. There was a pause, then a sigh. "We've got a body. It's Mathew Ender—Harper's friend." Steve kept his expression neutral, as not to tip off Harper to anything. "Alright. I'll be there in a few minutes," he said. He hung up and slid his phone away. He wrapped his arms around Harper's middle again with a sigh, and she raised an eyebrow. "You expected a different result from your cell phone ringing?" she asked, with light sarcasm.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" he said. "I promise."

"Well, as long as you promise," she said, with a soft smile. He leaned down to kiss her and she met his lips halfway. "I love you," he said, pulling back.

"I love you, too," she said. "Be safe."

"I will," he smiled, before heading to the door. Once he left, Harper sighed. It was a bit odd, being left alone in Steve's house. But she continued on with her quest, heading into the kitchen to find breakfast.

Steve pushed through the glass doors and started for the touch screen table, where Danny, Chin, and Kono were waiting. "How'd we find a body?" Steve asked, as he reached the table. Chin typed something on the table as Kono spoke. "A number of officers found a room in the tunnels where we found Harper. It was set up as some kind of morgue," she explained.

"Were there any other bodies?" Steve asked.

"No," Kono said, with a shake of her head. Chin brought the pictures taken of the morgue under the warehouse up onto the screen. "There was DNA found in one of the boxes. It was a female hair, belonging to Emma Harris," Chin informed. "Emma Harris went missing just over a year ago under the same circumstances as the others that were kidnapped."

"Max thinks she might be the body we found at Jack Rugby's house," Danny added.

"Are we sure she's dead?" Steve asked, glancing around at the others. "She could have gone with the others that fled on scene."

"We thought that, too," Kono said. "So we called Bryan Dublin to verify. He says that Emma was there, but only for a few weeks."

"Grover's talking to him now," Chin said. Steve nodded shortly and went to Grover's office, where Grover was talking with Bryan. Steve knocked once on the glass before opening the glass door. As he entered the small office, Grover said, "Good, you're here. Bryan was just telling me who's in charge."

"Well, I don't know who's ultimately in charge of the operation," Bryan said, glancing between Grover and Steve. "I only know what the bookies told me."

"Bookies?" Grover asked.

"They handle the money—the bets. They have some connections to a middle man. They said his name was Adam Kent," Bryan explained. "And he's only in charge of booking matches. But my sources are certain he knows more than he's letting on." Steve nodded, taking in the information. Bryan sighed and slid his hands into his coat pockets. "I know the names of a few agents, but I don't think you'll be able to fine them," Bryan said.

"What are the names?" Steve asked.

"Eliza Thomas, Edward Shultz, Andrew Delle," Bryan listed.

"Alright. Lou, have chin run the names and see what you find," Steve said. Grover nodded and headed out to the rest of the team. Steve turned to Bryan, and Bryan said, "I heard Harper was released from the hospital. How's she doing?" Steve sighed, recalling what happened just yesterday. Bryan seemed to sense the answer to his question, and he nodded. "I gather not good," he said.

"Physically, she seems to be doing alright," Steve said.

"But mentally she's a basket case? Breaks down at the smallest things, doesn't eat much, gets easily angered, and is hard to carry a conversation with?" Bryan asked, knowing the answer. Steve nodded sadly and Bryan sighed. Bryan knew exactly what was going on. And it was to be expected. With all that Harper went through, she would never be the same again.

It was just that no one expected her to be this different, especially Steve. Bryan sat in the chair in front of Grover's desk and Steve leaned into the desk, crossing his arms. "Are you and Megan still doing alright?" Steve asked.

Bryan nodded. "Yeah, for the most part. We both have sleepless nights. But we're working on it, and starting counseling."

Steve chuckled humorlessly. "Counseling. Don't even _mention_ that word around Harper," he said.

"What does she do when you mention it?" Bryan asked, his expression observant.

"Well, she gets angry. Most times she cries. She gets very defensive about why she shouldn't go," Steve explained. Bryan nodded in understanding and adjusted his position in the chair. "It's simple: she's scared," Bryan said. "Talking about it makes it real, and she's too afraid to face that reality."

"You seem to know a lot about this," Steve noticed.

Bryan chuckled. "I should. I was a doctor before all this," he said. "I've had plenty of experience with people suffering from PTSD."


	3. Hele aku (Go)

After all that's happened, Harper wanted to do something normal. So she decided to take Darcy for a walk on the beach. Her body's energy was slowly coming back, but she still wouldn't be able to spend much time out and about. As soon as she climbed out of Layla's rental car, a strong gust of wind blew her hair in her face.

She shut her door and went to the back side door to get Darcy. As she pulled it open, Darcy lunged out and she quickly dashed for the leash. Layla climbed out of the driver's seat and came around to help, but Harper waved her away. "I'm good, I'm good," Harper said, shutting the door.

"Are you sure? I don't know if going alone is a good idea," Layla said.

"I'll be fine, really. Just don't forget to pick me up," Harper said, somewhat sarcastically. She started down onto the sand and Layla sighed before getting back in the driver's seat. Harper began walking the line of the ocean, just out of the tide's reach. Darcy tugged at the leash as he trotted on in front of her.

He, like any dog, was extremely excited to not only be with his owner again, but to be at the beach as well. Harper inhaled a deep breath, gathering two nostrils full of sea air. It was refreshing, seeing as she'd been cooped up in some room—whether it had been at the hospital or at Steve's house.

As the sand tossed over her feet, she took the quiet time alone to think. There were many things to consider. One big thing being something heavily weighing on her heart: she wanted to find Matt's family—she knew he had some kind of relatives somewhere. For a funeral, they'd need his body. That was the second thing she wanted desperately.

The need to have some closure in this matter grew every day. And it was just one more thing she stayed awake at night thinking about. She paused at the sight of a colorful flyer blowing in the wind, attached to an announcement board by the edge of the sand. She dragged Darcy up to the board and held it down so she could read it.

It was a flyer for Nani Kahakai Photography. It read that they were in need of a stand in photographer on a part-time basis. She pried off one of the business cards attached to the base of the flyer and slid it in her pocket before continuing down the beach.

She only made it a few feet before she noticed Steve's truck had just parked in a space before the sand. She raised an eyebrow, filled with sudden curiosity, and began walking over. He slid out and shut his door, and Harper smiled. "Hey. How'd you know where I was?" she asked, finally reaching him. As she stopped walking a foot from him, her smile faded as she noticed his expression.

It was somber. Harper had been given that look before. She knew it all too well. Steve tried to think of an easy way to say it. But he found there wasn't one. "Harper...we found Matt's body this morning," he finally said. Harper was inwardly confused in her emotions. Part of her wanted to cry because he was truly dead. Another part was relieved they'd actually found him.

She swallowed, nodding once. "Was...his body...were all the pieces there?" she asked.

"Yeah, he's intact. They had some kind of morgue set up they put him in," he said. Harper sighed in relief, and then was hit with a wave of sadness. She looked down the beach, trying to keep it together. She'd thought maybe, by some miracle, he wasn't really dead. That maybe she wouldn't have to track down his family—he would tell her where they were.

But, sadly, that was not the case. He was truly dead. Steve noticed her actions and he pulled her into his arms. She clung to him like her life literally depended on it as she struggled to breath without hitching. "He was the nicest guy ever," she said, her voice trembling. "He saved my life." With a sudden thought, she pulled back to see Steve's face. "Can you help me find any family or relatives he might have?" she asked.

"Of course," he nodded.

"Thank you," she said, sniffling. "Oh...how _did_ you find me?"

"I called Layla," he said, brushing some stray strands of hair behind her ear.

"Ah. The all-knowing, very pregnant sister," she said, with a light chuckle of sarcasm. Steve rested his hand against her cheek and she slightly leaned in to the touch, trying to smile up at him. With a soft nod, she said, "I'm okay."

"You always say that," he pointed out, with a small smile.

"You don't need to worry," she replied.

"Harper, I'm your boyfriend. It's my job to worry about you," he said, before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Just then, Harper's cell phone rang. She groaned and pulled it out of her pocket. She answered, "Hello?" on the third ring.

"Hey, it's Layla. I just wanted to let you know I might be late picking you up," Layla said, on the other end. It sounded like she was focusing. Most likely Layla was driving. Harper sighed at that fact. "That's okay. Thanks," Harper replied.

"One more thing, I know you, like, _just_ got out of the hospital and everything-"

"But you have plans," Harper finished, somewhat sarcastically. "And you want me to come with you, to wherever it is you're going."

"Not exactly. It's not right away, but I'm going to be making a trip back home in the next two weeks," Layla said. "And I started thinking, you know, what if you came with?"

"You want me to come to Florida with you?" Harper asked, surprised. She glanced at Steve a moment, knowing he was probably listening. "You don't have to. It was just an idea," Layla quickly added. Harper absentmindedly rubbed the back of her neck as she thought. "No, no...I think it's a good idea. I'll have to think about it," Harper said.

"Of course," Layla said. "I just thought I'd run it by you."

"Okay, thanks," Harper said.

"I'll see you later," Layla said.

"See you later," Harper said, before hanging up the phone. Harper leaned back, into Steve's truck. Both of them remained silent for a few minutes. Harper slid her phone away and loosely crossed her arms over her chest. "Florida, huh?" Steve said, finally breaking the semi-awkward silence. Harper nodded slowly, thinking. "Yeah..." she said.

"You should go," he said. That surprised Harper. She looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "I should?" she asked.

"Yes. You might be able to finally get some closure, meeting your mother," he said. Harper was secretly fearful of the idea of leaving the island. Not the island, she feared leaving Steve. And there he was, telling her she should go without hesitation. Yes, she might get some closure. But she would hate being away from Steve for who knows how long Layla wanted to stay in Florida. "So...you're okay with me leaving?" she asked, confused a bit.

Darcy huffed from where he laid on the ground at Harper's feet, all but forgotten. "I think it would be good for you. Especially now," he said. She momentarily chuckled humorlessly, and shook her head. "That wasn't answering my question," she said.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Harper," he started to get a little confused himself.

"Wouldn't you miss me?" she asked.

"Of course I would miss you. That's not even a question," he said. Harper ran her hands up her face and settled her gaze on the nearly completely set, pink-looking sun above the water. "You don't want to go?" Steve asked her.

"I don't know," she said, mildly snapping. "I don't know what I want to do."

"It's okay to not know, Harper," he said, calmly. Harper sighed grudgingly and rested her forehead on her right palm. "I know, I know," she said, inhaling. With a small exhalation of air, Steve leaned his back into the truck, shoulder-to-shoulder with her, and put an arm around her shoulders.

She turned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Take your time," he said. "Really think about what you want. Not what I would want, or what Layla would want. Okay? Do what's best for you." She nodded and glanced down at Darcy. He looked to be taking a nap on the pavement. "Can we go home?" she asked.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Come on."


	4. Job Apps

It'd been officially one month after the kidnapping, and most of it had been spent in the hospital. Harper was eager to get back into some kind of real schedule. Maybe then she wouldn't have to pay attention to the constant loop of images in her head. After she dried her hair in the bathroom, she moved back into the bedroom to get changed.

Last night was her first night sleeping in her own bed, completely alone. She had Darcy, but he didn't really count. Harper dressed in denim, khaki capris and a mint green top. She slid her feet in her sandals and pulled her jacket on, then she grabbed her beach bag and her sunglasses on the way out of the apartment.

Two days ago, she'd decided the Hut wasn't the right job for her anymore. So she did some looking around and she found a couple of jobs to apply for. Steve and Layla both agreed that Harper going back to work wasn't such a good idea, that she needed more time. But Harper wasn't going to give up that easily.

She slid in behind the wheel of her van and started the engine, then began driving. It was a short drive to her first stop—Nani Kahakai Photography. When Harper was going to school at San Diego State, she took a short photography course and took pictures as a side-job for gas money.

It started as just a way to make money, but she grew fond of photography and art. She hadn't worked a camera in years, but she figured it was worth a shot. She pulled into a parking space in front of the small building, shaded by a few trees. Harper cut the engine and hopped out of her van, then started to the entrance of the building.

As she pushed through the door, a wave of conditioned air hit her—along with the smell of an orchid scented candle. The room was small. There was a dark wood desk to the right of the entrance, with two chairs in front of it. Pictures lined the walls, and Harper located the scented candle. It was perched on the shelf beside another door, across the room from the entrance.

Just then, a nicely dressed, brunette woman entered the room from the second door. She smiled politely and moved to sit behind the wooden desk. "Good morning," the woman said. "How can I help you?" Harper smiled back and sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. She put her beach bag at her feet and sat upright. "Hi, I spoke with a woman on the phone yesterday—her name was Karen?" Harper said, trying to remember the name correctly.

"That's me," Karen said. "You must be Harper Kelly."

"Yes. I was interested in applying-"

"Do you have any prior photography experience?" Karen asked.

Harper nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Do you have a portfolio? A Resume?" Karen asked. Harper reached into her beach bag and pulled out her printed resume and her folder acting as a portfolio. Thankfully, Harper had had some photos left from her photography days. She gave both to Karen across the desk, and Karen took them. Karen opened Harper's portfolio first—obviously the camera work was more important.

Harper sat silently, resisting the urge to tap her toes or bite her nails. "I see some potential," Karen commented, slowly nodding as she flipped a page. "What is your interest in photography?"

"Well, um...to be honest, I don't know. I was just drawn to the beauty in each image. I didn't plan a career in photography," Harper said, reminiscent of her college days. "It's been a while, honestly, but I want to pursue it." Karen nodded, obviously thinking about something. She looked at Harper's resume next.

Harper hadn't worked many enchanting jobs over her lifetime. It was mainly small time things like working as a help desk assistant at the public library, or barely holding a part time job at the local grocery store. Nothing huge, nothing important, and nothing particularly bright either.

Her only long time job was at the Hut. Karen closed Harper's resume and sat upright in her chair. "My colleagues and I will talk it over, and I will call you by the end of the week," Karen said.

Harper nodded. "Okay, thank you," she said, before grabbing her bag and standing. Harper took in a deep breath and she exited, happy to be away from that stupid scented candle. She slid into the driver's seat of her van and started it. Then she began driving to the second job possibility to drop off her application.

The second job possibility was a small coffee shop, a part of a large corporate chain of different restaurants and stores, Coco Coffee. Harper pulled into the parking along the street, beside the coffee shop, and cut the engine. She slid out and shut her door, then walked up to the door.

As she stepped inside, her nose was filled with the smell of fresh coffee and various baked sweets. It was a lot better than the scented candle. Harper went through the small dining room and to the counter, where a young woman was working the register. "Excuse me?" Harper said, stepping up to the counter. The woman turned, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing off her shoulder, and smiled. "Hi. What can I get you?" she asked.

"Actually, I'd just like to drop off my application," Harper smiled politely, sliding her application across the counter. The woman took it and glanced it over before looking back up at Harper. "Oh, great!" she said. "We haven't had many applicants, so it shouldn't be a long wait."

"Oh, okay, thanks," Harper said. "Have a nice day." Harper turned and headed for the door. Before Harper was out, the woman shouted, "You, too!" Harper sorted her keys on the small key ring she held as she pushed through the door to exit. Suddenly her shoulder slammed into something hard, nearly knocking her completely off balance. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," a familiar voice said.

Harper ruefully turned to see who she'd run into, and tried to act normal. As Harper had thought, it was Catherine. Steve's ex-girlfriend Catherine. "Oh no, it's okay," Harper waved it off, trying to keep her smile bright. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Well, maybe I could buy you a coffee, make it up to you?" Catherine said. She was genuinely being nice with Harper. But Harper didn't know what Steve had told Catherine about their relationship, and it was all a bit awkward for her. "It's okay, you don't have to do that," Harper said, trying to seem overly polite.

"No, really, I want to," Catherine pushed. Harper inwardly cringed at the idea. But, to be nice, she accepted the offer. "Alright, if you insist. I don't have anything else to do today," Harper said.

"Great!" Catherine said, moving to enter the coffee shop. Harper dropped her keys back into her bag with a short and quiet sigh—trying to be inconspicuous—and followed Catherine inside. They sat at a two-seat table by the left front wall, a wall of pure glass. "I want to apologize for that awkward introduction the other day," Catherine said. "I honestly didn't know I'd be back that day, and I was just so excited to see Steve, I didn't think-"

"It's fine," Harper said, waving it off with a smile. "Really, you weren't the problem that day."

"Either way, I feel really bad about it," Catherine said, genuinely empathetic. Just then, the waitress approached their table. She was tall, thin, and perky with a bright smile that could blind a war ship. "Hi there! Welcome to Coco Coffee House! What can I get you two lovely ladies today?" the waitress asked, holding a pad and pen ready.

"A regular coffee for me, thanks," Catherine said, smiling up at the waitress momentarily.

"I'd like a caramel latte, please," Harper said, smiling politely.

"Alright! I'll be right back with your beverages!" The waitress smiled once more, and then bounced away. Catherine turned back to Harper, and Harper could sense an awkward conversation coming on. She mentally braced herself. "So, how long have you known Steve?" Catherine asked. There it was. Harper sat upright in her chair a bit. "Um, four or five months," Harper said, casually.

Catherine nodded, just as the waitress reappeared with their drinks. She set the mugs down on the table and then scurried off. Harper started a blow and sip routine to distract herself from the elephant in the room. It seemed that only Harper noticed this elephant. Catherine seemed perfectly content holding a conversation with Harper. Looking for an escape seemed futile.


	5. Off Day

After the awkward coffee with Catherine, Harper headed to the nearest grocery store. The other night she'd noticed her cupboards and refrigerator were quite lacking. Her last shopping trip was months ago. Then she drove back to her apartment. She pulled into the parking in front of her door and cut the engine, then hopped out.

She walked around to the back door and pulled it open. She grabbed the grocery bags in both hands, then used her foot to close the back door. It was hard, figuring out how to get in the house. But she used a combination of feet, elbows, and teeth to push it open. Darcy bombarded her at the door.

Eventually, she got inside. She shut the door behind her and plopped the bags down on the counter, next to the sink in the kitchen. With a sigh, she reached down to pet the nearly-psychotic dog at her feet. "You're worse than a herd of five-year-olds," she said, scratching behind his ear a moment. She turned back to her grocery bags, and Darcy made a small wheeze of a sound before trotting back to the couch.

After unloading everything, she put in a load of laundry—another thing to add to the list of chores she had not done. She vacuumed, she scrubbed counters and dusted shelves, she started a load of dishes, and she straightened many things that were out of place.

She was physically drained after all of it was done. So, she did what any girl in her situation would do. She took a quick shower and changed into some comfortable clothes—pajama shorts and a T-shirt—with her hair in a loose ponytail, then she got the Nutella out of the cupboard and camped out in front of the TV in her bedroom with the lights off.

Darcy lay stretched out in front of her, while Harper sat leaning against the wall and her pillows. Her knees were to her chest and her eyes were fixed on the screen. She was watching 27 Dresses. Again. She'd watched it almost more than 27 times. But for some reason, she enjoyed 'chick flicks'. They were her guilty pleasure. That and the Nutella.

She shoveled a spoon-full into her mouth just before a knock on the front door sounded. A small groan-sounding sigh escaped her, and she climbed off the bed. She hurried out to the living room and opened the front door. Her mouth nearly fell open. "E-Ellie?" she asked.

Ellie smiled lightly. "Hi," she said.

"What are you doing here?" Harper asked, confused. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're supposed to be in jail."

"I was," Ellie nodded. "But they don't have evidence that I'm involved. My lawyers are saying I can plead coercion." Harper clenched her jaw to keep from spewing words of hatred she'd only regret later. "What do you want?" she asked.

"To apologize," Ellie said.

"It's a little too late for that, El," Harper said, bitterly. Ellie's expression dropped at the tone Harper used. But she kept her chin up, not showing she was fazed for more than a second. Harper wished she could say something really spiteful and hurtful to Ellie. Just to make herself feel a little better. But that wasn't the best thing to do for this situation.

"Harper, I swear, I only knew you were there for a couple of days," Ellie said. "I found out when I was underground. I couldn't really tell the police." Harper scoffed and rolled her eyes, then leaned into the door frame on her hand, a fist on her hip. She narrowed her eyes at Ellie as she spoke. "Read my lips," Harper said. " _I. Don't. Care_."

"I know you could never forgive me. But I just wanted to say it. I'm sorry. I truly am," Ellie said, conceding defeat.

"Good for you. Excuse me, I have to go throw up now," Harper spat. She stepped back, closing the door forcefully as she went. Harper exhaled a deep breath and she rubbed her temples, momentarily closing her eyes. Suddenly, Darcy yipped a bit, startling her. She shook her head as she hurried back into the bedroom with Darcy.

She patted his head and sat back where she had been before. "Don't worry, boy. It was just a really big bug," she said. Darcy made a sound between a whimper and a growl as his head dropped back down onto the bed. Harper didn't feel like eating, so she skipped dinner. The buzzer on the washing machine went off just as her movie ended. So she moved along the laundry and the dishes.

By the time both were finished, it was late at night. Almost one-thirty AM, to be exact. She was able to keep herself awake long enough to put away the clean dishes and fold the clean laundry. But then she was even more exhausted. She turned off the lights in the living room and kitchen, and then she went back into her bedroom.

She slid into her bed under her covers, pulling out her ponytail, and turned off her lamp. A frantic ringing of her cell phone from the nightstand jolted her awake. She groaned as she looked up at her alarm clock. It was four AM. She sighed and grabbed her phone. She answered, "Hello?"

"Hey, Harper, it's Josh. I know it's really late," Josh said, with a somewhat panicked tone. Harper rubbed her eyes and sat up, instantly concerned by his tone. "Um...Layla's at the hospital."

"What? What happened?" Harper asked, quickly. She swung her legs off the bed and flicked her lamp on. "She went into early labor, or something- I'm not really sure," Josh said. He seemed a bit flustered and stressed on the other end. Harper stood and groggily started changing. "Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes, alright?" she said.

"Okay," he said, sounding relieved. Harper hung up her phone and finished zipping up her jeans. She slid her phone into her jean pockets and pulled a grey hoodie over her head, then grabbed her keys. Her feet slid into her sandals and she hurried to the front door. Darcy tried to follow, but Harper kept him inside.

She half-jogged, half-ran to her van and jumped into the driver's seat. She drove as fast as she could without being pulled over. As she drove, she had her window down and the radio on—anything to calm her down. But her mind raced with what could have happened to Layla.

She pulled into the parking and cut the engine. She hurried in the emergency entrance, and spotted Josh almost right away. He was pacing in the small waiting area across the room. He glanced in the direction of the door and stopped pacing as he saw Harper. Harper jogged over to him, panicked. "What happened?" she asked.

After asking the obvious, she put her arms around him in a hug. "She called me at two AM," Josh began, parting from her. "She said she wasn't feeling right—mainly because of a pain in her side. So I went over there and the pain just got worse, and she started a bad fever..." He was partially rambling, obviously too worried to think straight. Harper nodded understandably. "Okay, um...have the doctors come back yet?" she asked him.

He shook his head. Harper sighed, with yet another nod. Her heart was racing and she felt a bit sick to her stomach. She fought to keep her breathing even and her voice from shaking as she spoke. "She'll be okay," she said, and she wasn't sure who she was trying to reassure most—Josh or herself. Josh nodded in a sigh, and he sat in the chair to his left.

Harper stepped over and sat in the chair to the right of his. She couldn't help thinking, in the silence of the waiting area, and her mind went wild. She wasn't particularly religious, but she said a silent prayer—pleading, begging whoever was up there to _please spare the baby_.

Let Layla be alright. Harper wouldn't be able to handle any more tragedy in her life. That and she truly worried for her sister. Layla was there for Harper when she needed her, but Harper couldn't be in there with Layla now. Josh crossed his arms over his chest with an exhale and couldn't stop tapping his foot.

They sat for a long time before a doctor emerged from the double doors. Harper and Josh shot up to their feet as the doctor made her way over to them. "You must be the siblings?" the female doctor said.

"Yes. How is she?" Harper asked, her voice shaking.

"She's stable for now," the doctor answered.

"And the baby?" Josh asked. Harper held her breath, her pulse skyrocketing as she waited for the answer. The doctor inhaled before speaking. "We had to perform an emergency C-section, and at the moment the baby—a boy—is doing better than expected. But with the level of prematurity we're dealing with...that could change overnight," she informed. Harper's heart dropped, but she tried to be optimistic.

At least the baby was alive, and so was Layla. Josh remained silent, most likely in a small bought of shock. "When can we see Layla?" Harper asked, trying to find her voice again.

"She's resting now, but you can come back to the room if you'd like," the doctor said. Harper nodded and the doctor started leading the way through the double doors. Harper took Josh's hand and he glanced at her. "Come on," she said, lightly. "Let's go see Layla." Josh nodded and they followed after the doctor.


	6. Possibilities

The doctor stayed by the doorway as Harper and Josh entered the small hospital room. Layla was sleeping in the only bed in the room to the right, by the far wall. Harper sniffled a little to keep herself at bay and moved over to Layla's side, letting go of Josh's hand. "I'll be back to check on her in thirty minutes," the doctor said, before hurrying down the hall. Harper sat in one of the plastic chairs beside Layla's bed while Josh remained standing.

Both brother and sister felt numb. And both were silent. Harper remembered back when she was still in the hospital, and Layla was telling her all about her baby plans. The realization that none of those might come true was bone crushing. She sucked in a few quiet breaths, trying to breathe right. Her mind told her she wasn't able to breathe. She needed air.

She stood and walked to the open door. "I'll be right back," she said, before slipping out. She took a few steps down the hallway and stood, running a hand over her face. Instinctually, she reached into her pocket and dug out her cell phone, then dialed Steve's number.

The time didn't really matter. He answered on the third ring. "Hello?" he sounded very groggy and she knew she'd woken him up. For a second she felt bad. But then she remembered why she needed him, and it didn't matter. "Steve, it's me," she said. Her voice was all over the place.

Her hands were shaking, therefore shaking the phone. "What's up? Are you okay?" Steve asked, sounding worried.

"I'm, um...I'm at the hospital. It's- it's Layla," Harper said.

"What happened?" he asked. There was a scuffling sound on the other end, and Harper sniffled back tears. "Josh said she wasn't feeling well and he ended up having to take her to the ER...I don't know all the specifics, but they had to do a C-section to save the baby," Harper explained.

"I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?" he said.

She nodded, though he couldn't see it. "Okay," she said. After hanging up, she slid her cell phone into her pocket and wiped at her eyes. She couldn't hold back the tides any longer, and tears trickled down her cheeks. Harper slid down the wall to the floor and choked out a small sob.

Josh stepped into the hallway to look for Harper, and he saw her sitting on the ground in tears. He quickly knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. "She's going to be okay. They both are," he said. There was a certain confidence to his voice that was false, but just believable enough to make her feel better.

It didn't stop the tears, but it gave her the strength to let him pull her up to her feet. "We'll get through this, as a family," Josh said. She nodded a little and wiped off some tears. "I'll be fine, I just need a minute," Harper said, glancing up at him for a second. He got the subtle hint, and nodded once.

He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly before going back into the room with Layla. Harper took a deep breath and decided to go back to the waiting area. Odds are they wouldn't let anyone in that wasn't family. So she thought it best to wait for Steve there. As she exited the double doors, she saw that Steve was talking with the girl behind the help desk.

Steve happened to glance in her direction and noticed she was there. He said something to the help desk girl, then walked over to her. Her under eyes were puffy and tears still drained off her chin from her cheeks. Steve immediately pulled her into his arms, and she held onto him tightly. It seemed like a stupid question to ask, but he asked anyway. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

She pulled back and wiped at her eyes. "Exactly how you'd expect," she said, with a somewhat sarcastic chuckle. "So not good. But not bad, considering." He nodded as she spoke, keeping his arms around her protectively. She sniffled. "I know it's really early-" she started.

"It doesn't matter. You need me, you call, okay?" he said. She nodded and hugged him again. If her mind wasn't preoccupied by worries for Layla and the baby, she would say something else—anything else, really. But given the circumstances and lack of sleep, her mind was not up to multi-tasking.

Harper stepped back and Steve slid his hand in hers. "Josh is probably wondering where I am," she said, thinking.

"I can wait here, if you want to go back in there," Steve said.

"You're family, aren't you?" she thought aloud. "I think you are. Come on." She tugged on his hand, pulling him with her to the help desk. The girl behind the desk perked up. "Hi, um, my sister is back there. Could you buzz me in?" Harper asked.

"What is the patient's name?" the girl asked.

"Layla Cummings," Harper answered. The girl typed on her computer for a minute, then looked back up at Harper. "And your name?" she asked.

"Harper Kelly," Harper said.

"And who is the gentleman?" the girl asked.

"I'm her-" Steve started.

"He's my fiancé," Harper lied. The girl nodded and started typing again. Harper flashed a small smile at Steve before focusing on the help desk girl. The girl handed Harper two red wristbands with numbers on them. "Here you go. If you need to get back in after this, just scan the bands at the door," the girl said, as Harper took the bands.

The double doors buzzed and began opening on their own. "Thank you," Harper said. The girl nodded with a polite smile. Harper started for the double doors and Steve followed close behind. "Fiancé?" Steve asked, as they passed the doors.

"Don't act like you didn't like it," Harper said, sarcastically. Steve shook his head, smiling at her humor. Harper vaguely remembered where to go, but she got them to the room fine. As they entered, Josh twisted to see behind him. "Hey," he said, greeting Steve with a casual nod. Steve returned the gesture, and Harper tugged him over to sit on the cushioned bench along the far wall. "The doctor was just in," Josh said. "She said the baby is still in stable condition."

Harper nodded with a light sigh of relief. "That's good. Is there any way to contact her husband?" she asked Josh.

"I don't know. He's deployed right now and I don't know how she usually talks to him," he said, thinking.

Just then, Steve had a thought. "Catherine still has some inside contacts. Maybe she can get the news to him?" he suggested, glancing between Josh and Harper.

Harper nodded in agreeance. She didn't particularly like Catherine, but if she could help contact Layla's husband, then so be it. Steve nodded and kissed the side of Harper's head. "I'll give her a call," he said, standing. He left the room as he pulled out his cell phone, and Josh turned to Harper. "Who's Catherine?" he asked her.

She sighed. "His ex," she said, simply. Josh nodded, sensing there was awkwardness to the situation, but didn't comment. Harper pulled her legs up onto the bench beside her and loosely crossed her arms, leaning her back into the wall. Just then, Layla stirred. Harper quickly hopped to her feet and moved over to her bedside.

Layla's eyelids fluttered open, and then squinted from the light. Her first words were, "Did the baby make it?" Harper sat beside her and took her hand. "He's okay. They say he's stable," Harper said.

Layla smiled. "It's a boy?" she asked. Harper nodded with a small smile, and Layla noticed Josh. "One more and we'd have a party," Layla said, her voice strained a bit.

"Steve's here, too," Harper said.

"There we go," Layla said, continuing the joke. Harper tried making her chuckle sound genuine. It almost was. But she was still saddened by the news of the baby's potential for death. Harper glanced at Josh, and he nodded reassuringly. She turned back to Layla, and Layla smiled at her. "So, are we gonna talk names?" Harper asked, putting on a smile.

"We've already picked one out—Henry James," Layla said, proudly.

"Sounds fancy," Josh commented.

"It's prestigious," Harper added. Layla laughed. She was just so excited to have a baby, she wasn't really thinking of the prematurity. Harper guessed she was still coming off the anesthetic. But, soon, it would hit her.


	7. Pane (Answer)

What started out as a normal evening at home, turned into a living nightmare—a nightmare of _what if_ s and possibilities. Even with the immense lack of sleep, Harper refused to sleep. She stood in front of the incubator-like container holding very precious cargo—Layla's baby. Little Henry James weighed less than two pounds. That's what the doctors refer to as 'extremely low birth weight'. They also say the odds of survival for a baby that small is just less than seventy percent.

You could say the odds were good. Seventy is okay, but not high enough to guarantee anything. It was now seven AM—five hours after his birth. His skin was deep pink, almost red and it was hard to even see him around the vast array of machinery used to keep him alive. Layla wouldn't be able to see him until at least tomorrow, given the nature of the birth. So Harper said she would come to the NICU (Newborn Intensive Care Unit) to check on him.

It was proving to be harder than she thought. She scrubbed her face with her hands, further irritating her tired eyes. After staying there for a while, she decided to go back up to the room with Layla. Her report would remain the same: no change. Harper had come down to the NICU three times so far. And each time, nothing had changed.

In a way, that was good. He wasn't getting worse. But he wasn't getting any better either. Harper pressed the _up_ button in the elevator consul and stepped back to wait. It was incredibly hard to stay awake. She'd had a miniscule amount of sleep, and it was now seven thirty AM. She yawned as the doors opened. She stepped inside and pressed the floor she wanted to reach, and then the doors closed.

The doors opened a moment later on the recovery level, and she hurriedly stepped out. She followed the halls until she reached Layla's room. As she entered, she was careful not to make any noise. Layla was finally asleep. Josh had dozed off already, and he was slumped against the wall in his chair.

Harper sat on the cushioned bench near the wall and sighed upon seeing the sunlight as it leaked in the curtains. She refused to sleep. She couldn't. Her blood still pumped too fast to calm down. Any second something could go wrong. Just then, Steve returned from the cafeteria with three to-go coffees in a drink carrier.

He walked over and sat next to Harper, then held out a coffee to her. "You go nuts without caffeine," he said. She chuckled a little and took the coffee. He set the drink carrier on the floor to his right, taking a coffee out for himself. "How was he this time?" Steve asked.

"Small. Alive," Harper said, unable to possess enthusiasm of any kind.

"Well, no change is better than a drop in vitals, right?" Steve said, trying to be the encouraging one. Harper nodded with a small sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head as he snaked an arm around her middle. All of this talk about babies—and really the entirety of Layla's situation—had Harper thinking of her own possible reproductive problems. It made her wonder—did she really want all of this?

Did she want the pain and the anxiety, the problems and the _what if_ s? The answer was yes. She wanted that if it meant having a family of her own. She'd wanted children ever since she was little. The biggest setback to that happily ever after she dreamed of was her body. Would it even be possible, medically speaking? And she'd have to tell Steve eventually.

It was daunting. She trusted Steve, she loved Steve. But that shy, withdrawn, abused fourteen year old girl inside her Always kept her from talking about personal issues. Her fear kept her from living her life. But then again, was she even brave enough to tell him without the abuse coming into play?

She decided that the answer was in fact yes. She decided right there to tell Steve everything, before she changed her mind. "Can I talk to you for a second outside?" she asked, sitting up to look at him. He nodded and she stood, halfway to the door before he could even stand. He stood and followed her out into the hallway. "What is it? Is everything okay?" he asked, slightly concerned by her actions.

She seemed jumpy, anxious. And it was so sudden. Inhaling a deep breath, Harper said, "I need to tell you something..." She paused before continuing, causing Steve more worry. What wasn't she saying? "When I was in the hospital, the doctors said that my extensive wounds could cause a life-threatening risk during childbirth, meaning I might not be able to have kids."

It spewed from her mouth in a hurry. Steve paused, taking in her words a second. "Harper, why didn't you say anything?" he asked, empathetically.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Because I didn't want you to look at me differently," she said. "Like you're doing right now."

"What? Like I'm worried about you?" he asked, rhetorically. She tilted her head slightly as she gave him a look. "That's not it," she said.

"Then tell me what is," he said. Harper sighed, turning her head to look at the painting hanging on the wall to her left. It was easier when she wasn't looking at him. Like she was alone, talking to the wall. She was braver that way. "...You want to fix everything, and you can't fix this. You can't change this. I...I can't be more than something to look at," she said, moving her gaze to the floor beside her shoes. "There's no forever here—not with me."

It broke Steve's heart to hear what she was saying. Now he knew what had been bothering her ever since coming home from the hospital. He knew there had been something going on he didn't know about. And this was it. But didn't she know he wouldn't leave her for something like this? He stepped forward and uncrossed her arms, taking her hands in his, causing her to look up at him. "Harper...I _love_ you. I don't need kids to have a forever or a family—you're it. _You_ are my forever and my family," he said, sincerely. "You're all I could _ever_ need."

The kind words and firm reassurance brought her to tears. "...Really?" she asked, lightly sniffling.

"Really," he said, nodding surely. "I mean it." She wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug and he put his arms around her, holding her tightly. "I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" he asked.

"Constantly doubting you," she answered, sniffling.

"Given what you've been through, I honestly don't blame you," he said. She pulled back to see his face, wiping at her eyes once. As she opened her mouth to speak, Steve's cellphone rang. He sighed and grudgingly pulled it out of his pocket. He answered, "McGarrett."

"Hey, Steve, it's Chin. I'm in the hospital lobby—I have something you'll want to see," Chin said, on the other end.

"Alright. I'll be there in five minutes," Steve said. He hung up the phone and slid it back in his pocket. He turned back to Harper and found her grinning at him. "Do you, like, send your teammates a text to let them know when you'll be in a serious conversation with your girlfriend so that they can call you at those exact times?" she asked. He chuckled lightly and gave her a slow kiss to the lips. "This will just take a minute, okay? I'll be right back," he said, smiling down at her.

"Mm hm, sure," she said, sarcastically. He kissed her once more before starting down the hallway.


	8. Leads

In the hospital lobby, Chin sat in the waiting room, waiting for Steve. He stood as Steve walked through the double doors and headed his way. "Hey. What is it?" Steve asked.

"I discovered that some of Matt's family is on the island. They came here on vacation a year ago—the summer he was kidnapped—and they haven't left yet," Chin informed. "They're staying at a house in Kapolei." Steve nodded, taking in the information. If Matt's family was still here, then they could tell them about his death. More importantly, Harper could get at least some closure from the ordeal. "Great, thank you. I'll tell Harper," he said.

"How is she doing, by the way?" Chin asked.

Steve sighed a little at the thought. "She's handling it as best she can." It was all he could think to say. And it wasn't near enough to cover it. There were a million problems to work out, not including current events. Chin nodded understandingly. Then he remembered something and glanced down at the manila folder in his hands. "I almost forgot. We found Adam Kent," Chin said, holding up the folder.

He handed it to Steve, and Steve opened it, glancing over the information. "His last known location was at a hotel not far from here," Chin explained.

Steve nodded while Chin spoke. "Alright. Bring him into interrogation. Let me know when you have him, okay?" Chin nodded and Steve handed him the folder.

Harper rubbed her tired, near blood shot eyes as she sat leaning against the wall in Layla's room. So many things whirled around in her head like a tornado. Confessing what she'd been keeping secret to Steve did lift a pretty substantial weight from her chest. She could breathe better now. But she was still crippled by the constant worry for Layla and the baby.

She was confident Layla could make it. Little Henry James was a different story. She sighed, slouching back slightly in her seat, crossing her arms. "Harper?" She jolted upright at the sound of her name. Layla was just waking up. Harper quickly moved over to her bedside and sat next to her. "Hey. How are you feeling?" she asked, gently.

Layla nodded a little. "Better. Henry?"

"He's alive," Harper assured. Layla sighed a little in relief. Harper didn't know what it was like to have a child, and she might not ever, but she understood the undefeatable urge inside to protect someone—how it worsened when you had no control over any given situation. "Harper, what I said about Florida-"

Harper gave a shake of her head. "You don't need to think about that right now."

"Yes, I do," Layla urged. "I have a flight booked for Saturday. I won't be going back for a while, but you could still go."

"Layla..." Harper sighed, looking away.

"Mom doesn't have much time left, and I promised her I'd bring you home before she passed," Layla continued, desperate. Indecision struck Harper's chest. Part of her wanted to go. The rest of her told her to stay put, that she really didn't need to meet her mother. But it was something she'd dreamed about since she was little. "I'll think about it, okay?" Harper reasoned, looking back down at Layla.

Layla nodded. "Thank you."

It only took less than a half hour to get Adam Kent handcuffed to the metal interrogation chair. He slouched in the seat with an annoyed sigh, glaring at Danny and Kono. "Y'all got a warrant for this?" Adam asked, agitated. "I'm pretty sure this is illegal—dragging people into your little box without probable cause." Danny and Kono shared a glance, slightly asking each other the same question— _is he for real?_

Danny sighed, turning to look at Adam. "You see, we have reasonable evidence that says you hosted, paid for, and participated in an illegal underground fighting organization that kidnaps its fighters," Adam shook his head with a smug expression while Danny spoke. "Okay—what is that? What is that dumb little smirk on your face?"

"You got nothin' on me," Adam said, with a confident smile.

"Oh really? We don't? Okay, good, I wasn't sure," Danny said, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Of course, we could ask Bryan Dublin." Adam's expression soured, causing Danny to inwardly smirk. Kono crossed her arms. "You want us to go get him? He's right upstairs," Kono offered, rhetorically.

"You're lying. Even if you had him, you have no way of connecting me with this. Just call my lawyer, I'll be out of here in five seconds," Adam said, relaxing in his chair. This angered Danny. He had no tolerance for this. He knew this man was involved and he intended to find out what he knew regardless of protocol.

He marched forward and grabbed Adam by his shirt collar, getting in his face. "Listen up, dirtbag. One of my friends was kidnapped to use in your little amateur boxing night, so you better start giving me something useful before I make sure you go to prison for the rest of your pathetic little life. Does that sound good?"

"Fine! But you shouldn't be talkin' to me! If you want answers, you'll have to find Andy," Adam said, quickly.

"Who's Andy?" Danny pressed.

"We need a name," Kono said, moving to stand beside Danny.

"Andrew Delle. Word is, he's connected to the boss. He runs the whole op," Adam confessed. Danny let go of Adam's shirt in a rough shove and stepped back. The smug look on Adam's face was gone, replaced by one of annoyance. Danny nodded to Kono and led the way out of the room.

Steve returned to Layla's room. Layla greeted him with a half-lucid smile and he smiled back, walking around to stand beside Harper. Harper glanced up at him and noticed his expression. Her eyebrows furrowed. "What's up?" she asked him.

"I need to talk to you for a minute," he said, trying to make it obvious it should be done in private with his demeanor. Harper got the hint and slid off the bedside, turning to Layla. "I'll be back in a second, okay?" she told her. Layla nodded and Harper turned to Steve.

He led the way out into the hallway. Harper's insides were churning with curiosity but also with worry. He didn't look like he would be talking to her about something upbeat and cheery. They stopped a foot from the door and Steve turned to her. She crossed her arms loosely. "What is it?" she asked, concerned.

"We found Matt's family," Steve announced. "They're still on the island." Harper didn't know quite what to say. She was overjoyed and full of relief. It was also a saddening topic, though. She nodded slowly, thinking. "Okay...where?" she asked.

"A vacation home in Kapolei," he told her, also crossing his arms. Finding the words to respond once again was troublesome for Harper. What do you say? She wrapped her arms around Steve's neck in a hug and he hugged her back. "Thank you," she said. "I don't know where I would be without you."

Steve thought about her words. Where would she be? Probably on a beach somewhere with Ellie, waxing boards and getting ready to dive into the surf. She'd probably be happy and laughing. If she'd never met him that day at the beach, things would be a lot simpler. But life would be a lot less worth living.


	9. Doubt

Harper's forehead bumped lightly against the wall, jolting her awake. She pushed herself up and glanced around the small hospital room. Josh was slumped across a couple of plastic chairs on the other side of Layla's bed, and he stirred slightly. Harper eased her legs off the cushioned bench she lay on, groaning slightly at the forming knot that pinched her neck. Her hand rubbed the spot in an effort to dull the ache. No such luck.

She'd spent yet another night in the hospital, sleeping on that decrepit bench. Of course, it was a cheap hospital bench, so there's bound to be no support. Harper outstretched her arms. She'd survived another night. And, coincidentally, so did little Henry James. The nurses had said last night that if Layla was feeling up to it today, she could go down to the NICU to see him. But Harper knew Layla wouldn't be moving for at least another day.

Just then, her phone buzzed violently in her pocket, rattling the bench. Her hands dove into her pocket and fished it out, quickly getting up and moving just outside the room. She pressed answer. "Hello?" She rubbed her right eye while she waited for a response, fighting a yawn. "Harper, it's Steve," Steve said, on the other end. He, unlike Harper, didn't sound groggy at all. He sounded neutral. Harper leaned her back into the wall, crossing her arms. "Hey. What's up?" she asked.

"First, good morning," he said, a small smile evident in his voice.

Harper smiled a little. "Good morning."

"Second, I have some news about the case," he continued. Harper stood upright a little, waiting for him to go on, anticipating his next words. "We brought in Adam Kent—the guy Bryan told us about—and he said we should have a chat with Andrew Delle. Does that name sound familiar at all?"

Harper shook her head, though he couldn't see it. "No. Should it?" she asked.

"He says he knows you and Bryan, but he won't tell us how," Steve said, sounding a bit annoyed about the last bit. Harper's eyebrows furrowed, a sign of her confusion. Why would someone she'd never heard of before say they knew her? He was obviously connected to the fights. But Harper was only present for two. Maybe he was a spectator? "You absolutely don't have to, but is there any way you can get away from the hospital to come down to headquarters?"

She glanced over her shoulder at Layla, through the window. Then she turned back forward. "I don't know…I'll see if I can this afternoon," she answered.

"Okay. How are you holding up?" Steve asked. Harper paused, thinking about the question. How _was_ she doing? Layla's words have been on her mind all night, partially keeping her from sleeping. It weighed on her heavily. But she didn't know quite how to phrase it to Steve. "Fine, considering," she said, with a mild shrug. "How are _you_ doing? Punched any guys in the face yet?"

Steve huffed a chuckle at her words. "No, I haven't. But I'm about to do something I probably shouldn't with this guy in Interrogation."

"Sweet! I'll bring the popcorn, Danny can get the lawn chairs—we'll make a day of it," Harper commented, full of sarcasm. Steve laughed, shaking his head. Harper checked the clock on her phone, then put it back to her ear. "The nurses should be by any minute."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later. I love you."

"I love you, too. Bye." Harper slid away her cell phone just as the nurse started down the hall toward Layla's room. She smiled at her politely as she neared. "Good morning," the nurse said, stopping at Layla's door.

Harper nodded. "Good morning."

"How's our girl doing this morning?" the nurse asked. Harper followed the nurse into the room before answering. "She hasn't woken up yet," Harper said. She moved over beside Josh and gave his shoulder a shove. He instantly sat up, pretending to be awake already. "Wha- yeah? I'm awake," he said, blinking his eyes open fully.

Steve sighed, hanging up with Harper. Bryan readjusted his stance in front of Steve's desk, sliding his hands in his pockets, eyeing Steve with an observant look. "She seem off?" Bryan asked, with a knowing undertone. Steve nodded once, looking down at the folders on his desk.

Bryan sighed, sitting in his chair, across the desk from Steve. "There's always something," Steve said, shaking his head. "Always something she's hiding—something she refuses to tell me."

"What do you think she's hiding?" Bryan questioned.

"I don't know...first it was her criminal record, then it was her abuse. Then it was her medical issues, and now it's something I have no clue as to what it could be," Steve vented. "I feel like I can't get through. I can't get ahead of it. There's always a reason for her to be anything but happy. _Always_." Bryan thought, unmoved by Steve's words.

He'd expected no less from Harper. He knew exactly what was going on, what she needed to do to fix it. But it was something Harper would never attempt. He exhaled through his nostrils and readjusted his position in the chair. "You think it's intentional," Bryan assumed.

"It's starting to seem like it," Steve shrugged.

"Have you tried _asking_ her about it?" Now Steve thought. No, he hadn't. But there were several times he'd tried to talk to Harper about various things, and she completely shut off. He never got an answer or an alternative way of thinking. Something to make him see it differently. He shook his head. "No," he answered.

"Well, if you could do one thing to try and fix everything, what would it be?" Bryan asked.

"I'd put her on a plane to Florida," Steve replied, almost instantly.

"Florida?" Bryan raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, her mother's in the hospital there. I guess she wants to meet Harper before she dies. It might...I don't know...it might give her _some_ closure." It was a nice thought, but Steve knew the closure Harper would receive from the trip wouldn't be enough to fix everything. She needed something Steve couldn't give her. For Steve, it was saddening. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and make it all go away. But he couldn't seem to fix anything for her.

Bryan sighed lightly. "Steve, I think you have it a bit backwards. Yes it would give her closure. But she has to _want_ it. She has to _want_ to be saved and _want_ to close all the open doors that are causing her pain. You can't force someone to get better, and you can't force them to forgive and forget."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Steve questioned, his voice rising in frustration.

"Be there for her. Encourage her. Let her cry when she needs to. It's a long road, Steve. And, no matter how impossible it looks, you just have to stay with her. She'll be ready in time, but it's _not_ gonna happen right away," Bryan said, his tone calm and even. Steve nodded while Bryan spoke, taking the words to heart. "Just be patient, and keep an open mind. And remember not to push."

Harper worked it out with Josh so that she could slip away for a few hours. So she drove home for the first time in at least three days. Harper had stopped counting now. She parked her van in the parking space in front of her door and cut the engine, sitting a moment. She closed her eyes and took a breath, and then she pushed out of her van and started for the front door. Her hands fumbled with the keys a second but she got the door unlocked.

It was odd to open the door and not get crushed by a rampaging, tail wagging Darcy. It was almost saddening. And, in her already glum state, it was only making matters worse. But she powered through and headed into her bedroom, making a b-line for the bathroom. A hot shower was the one thing on her mind. She'd gone without one for far too long and, frankly, she was starting to smell like antiseptic. Not in a good way, either. So she put on the hot water.

She peeled off her articles of clothing one by one, then paused. Something caught her eye as she turned. She faced the mirror and her eyes trailed down to the thin white line marring her naturally tan skin, mere inches from her naval. Her fingers danced over it absentmindedly and all she could see was how she got the scar. A sputter in the shower water made her body jolt in a startle. She pushed it to the far end of her mind and stepped in under the hot water.

After showering, she dressed in a casual outfit that maximized comfort. She dried and brushed out her blonde hair next. It was getting much longer than she normally keeps it. Her mind rambled through different styling ideas or different ways she could wear the shirt she had chosen. But her heart was stuck on Florida. The idea of it was like an led weight on her chest, threatening to crush her if she didn't make a decision. She wanted to go. She truly did. But she didn't want to leave Steve.

He made her feel safe, made her feel loved. He gave her a reason to keep waking up every morning. And though she wouldn't be gone long, the short time they would spend apart would be difficult. That and she would have to speak to her birth mother—the woman that abandoned her on the doorstep of a church twenty-nine years ago. Layla's sixteen and pregnant story was believable, but the excuse was hard to justify in her mind. She needed a reason.

A bonafide _this is why I left you_ reason. Unable to care for her was a reason. It just didn't feel like enough. Her heart was still searching for a better reason. Something like _I didn't want you_ —something that meant she wasn't good enough. Any other reason didn't feel right.


	10. Ho Olohe (Listen)

Harper walked into the living room, pulling on her light jacket, when a light knock sounded on her front door. She raised an eyebrow, but opened it. Bryan smiled a small, closed-mouth smile at her. "Hi, Harper," he greeted. "Do you have a minute?"

"Actually, I was just heading out," Harper said, mainly an excuse not to invite him in. Bryan noticed the suspicious and all telling twitch of her eyebrow, the slight quiver up of her bottom lip when she spoke. His expression was a knowing one, and Harper knew she'd been made. The truth was, she was glad Bryan had stopped by. She'd been wanting to meet with him for a while now, but she could never make herself do it, that and her sister was in the ICU.

Harper stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug, and he returned the fond gesture. "Come in," Harper said, stepping back, pulling the door with her. Bryan stepped inside and she closed it behind him. He'd never been to her apartment before, he realized, glancing around the small living area. It was quaint. Harper gestured toward the couch, moving in that direction. "What brings you by?" she asked, her tone light, secretly hopeful.

Bryan sat on the couch, and Harper followed suit, sitting closest to the door. He noticed the behavior instantly, but didn't comment. "I wanted to ask…how have you been lately, Harper?" he asked, his tone calm. Harper thought about how to respond. "Don't sugar-coat it. Just lay it on thick if you have to."

She inhaled. "It feels like I'm trapped inside this never ending whirl-wind or at the bottom of a swimming pool with a weight on my ankle."

"How would you most accurately describe this feeling?" he asked, curiously.

"Like…um…" Harper tried to think, wanting to use the best words possible to describe it. "…like I'm a claustrophobic in an air-tight box." She suddenly paused as it dawned on her. Her foster father, the physically abusive foster father who was rotting away in a prison cell somewhere, used to keep her in a box. It was a punishment of sorts for the smallest of things. Things that were only seen as wrong in that twisted man's eyes. "And that means something to you?" Bryan asked, knowing.

He didn't want to say too much and scare her off from saying anything else. But he wanted to get to the root of the issue. And the only way to do that was to ask the hard questions. Harper nodded a little, thinking. Her chest felt tight and she struggled to keep her mind on subject. "I was abused when I was a kid," she admitted, stealing a half-hearted glance. "He, um…he kept me in a box."

Bryan thought about the symbolism. She felt like she was in a box in her situation now, and yet she was in a box as a child when she was abused. It was all too telling. Bryan readjusted his position. "Harper, remember when I was practically in diapers, and you saved my life?" he asked. "Do you remember what you said to me after you got me back to the beach?"

She shook her head. "No."

"You looked at me, and you said, 'It's you and me kid'. And I never left you alone after that. You know why? Because you made me feel safe, like…nothing could touch me," he explained. "I was a boat and you were my anchor, keeping me close to land. And it looks like Steve is your anchor. You're a boat, Harper, floating in an endless sea of problems. It feels like you'll never get out, doesn't it? Like there _is_ no way out?"

"Yes," Harper sniffled, instantly looking down.

"There are ways out, and they're right in front of you, in arm's reach. What's stopping you? What's keeping you from being the happy, funny, amazing woman I know you are? I know she's in there." A stray tear rolled over Harper's eyelid, trickling down her cheek as she looked up at Bryan.

What was stopping her? He was right. The answer to all of her problems was right in front of her and yet she refused to fix it. There was no real excuse for it. More tears fell as she prepared to speak, taking in a deep breath. "I…I can't go through it again, Bryan," she admitted. "I can't go through the past twenty years of my life. The first time around was bad enough."

"You're scared," he said, thinking aloud.

"Yes, I'm _scared_. I've spent my whole life being _afraid_. Wondering when the next panic attack was going to hit me, or when my heart would just randomly jump into overdrive from anxiety. I've lived with the pain, shame, and nightmares of my abuse my _entire life_! It's been so long—I wouldn't even recognize myself without it," she finished, feeling guilty. "I've lost so many friends—either from the foster system or death." Bryan put his hand atop hers in her knees.

His heart ached for her. He couldn't imagine what being her was like, not for a second. But he had to stop at nothing to get her to fix it. "Harper…have you ever heard the expression, 'It has to get worse, before it gets better'?" he asked, causing her to shake her head with a sniffle. "I can tell you right now that it's going to get worse—it's going to _feel_ like it's getting worse. But you'll see that once you start repairing the damage that's been done, once you let yourself heal and forget what's happened to you, you'll feel better than you have in a decade."

"You only say that because-"

"Don't. Don't make light of it. This is serious. You still feel physical pain from your abuse—recent and past. If you won't agree to go to counseling right away, at least promise me that you'll make an effort in your day-to-day to forget what's been done. Talk to me anytime you need help, or just when you're bored."

Harper nodded a little, thinking. He was so genuine in his words that Harper didn't quite know what to do or say. He made a good point. She knew he was right. Her insides might take a little more debate and convincing. But, for now, she'd make his promise. She nodded and wiped at her right eye. "You know…we've started a kind of support group for those that were kidnapped and forced to fight," Bryan said.

" _We_?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Megan, Will, Kylie, and a few of the other fighters," he explained. "Will asks about you every meeting. You should come by tonight. We meet every Friday night at seven—usually at my house, but sometimes we trade off. I think it'd be good for you." Harper thought about it a moment. Would it? Honestly? She'd wanted to catch up with Will for a while, but she never could make herself call.

Maybe now was her chance. "Okay. Just once," she said. It mildly surprised Bryan that she agreed, but her willingness to come to the group was encouraging. "Good. Now…I heard your sister was in the hospital. How is she?"

"Um…she's doing fine, for now. So is the baby," she said, and he nodded, listening. "She, uh...she told me she has a flight booked Saturday. I guess she was gonna go back home to Florida. She first tried to take me with her, but then this happened, and now-" Harper stopped herself, shaking her head.

"She wants you to go instead?" Bryan finished, knowingly. She nodded a little and he sat upright a bit. "Well, what do you think about that?"

"I don't know...Florida is a long way, and I couldn't just leave Darcy here unattended. He'd need somebody to watch him. I don't think Danny would be so pleased if he got stuck with him again. And I just don't know, Bryan. I mean, I haven't left the island since I got here. I came here to get away from the states. I don't even know if I _want_ to meet my birth mother," she said, her voice rising in exasperation. She sighed. "It's just a lot to think about."

"What if I said I'd watch Darcy? Would you go then?"

Harper looked at him hesitantly. She was hoping he wouldn't try to ask her a hypothetical question like that. Mostly because she knew he was probably serious. "...yes. No. I can't-"

"Harper, it's okay. You don't have to agree to anything right now," he assured, causing her to sigh in relief. "But I think it would be wise to go."

"You do?" she raised an eyebrow.

He nodded. "Meeting your mother, having some time away—it might be exactly what you've been needing. The island has a lot of history for you now and it isn't all good. There are some things you'd like to forget. Maybe going will allow you to do that, and finally get the answers you've been needing for you to be happy in your life? This could be the best thing that's happened to you, Harper. What's the worst that could happen?" he asked.

She thought a second, inhaling. "She could tell me she loved me. That she didn't want-" Harper took a second to reign herself in, getting a little too emotional to continue. Her eyes stung. She sniffled. "That she didn't want to give me up. That she would've come and found me sooner—or come for me herself, for that matter."

"What's wrong with her telling you that she loves you?" he asked, gently.

"She obviously doesn't! It'd be a lie. If she loved me, she would've kept me," she replied.

"That's not always easy. Raising a child isn't for everyone, and when it happens accidentally it can be hard to swallow," he pointed out.

"So you leave it on a doorstep?" she argued. "What is that? Who gives birth to a human baby and just leaves it to die at a church, hoping someone will happen to come by and find it? I don't know if I want to be around someone like that. I don't know if I want that family."

"You don't have a choice, Harper. She's your family—your blood. She's all you've got. If she's realized she made a mistake and wants to meet you and explain all this to you before she dies, don't you think you should go? That woman has probably lived all these years without you, wondering if you're safe. Wondering if you found a home, if you're out there thinking about her. Wondering if you want to meet her, too, and never getting up the courage to try to find you and finally face you and make right all she's done," he argued back, getting serious with her.

She was taken aback. He was right. Everything he said was spot on. She truly thought about it, trying to move past all the stupid prejudice she'd been holding onto. Did she really want to meet her mother? Bryan was right, she should go. Her mother needed the right to explain herself, she owed her that much, enough to get answered. "Answer me truthfully. Right here, right now. Are you going to go to Florida?"


	11. Her Choice

The whole drive to Five-0 Head Quarters was quiet, the only sound being the rapid wind buzzing Harper's open window and the raging battle in her mind. She finally pulled into a space and cut the engine of her van, sitting a minute. It was such a heavy decision. But, once she'd made it, she felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. She talked herself up in her mind. Convincing herself was easier than she'd thought, but still a task.

She pushed through the doors and into the building. The officer at the front desk recognized her, and it was easier to get upstairs this time. He gave her a visitor's pass and showed her to the elevator. He left her there to wait, and a second later the doors had opened, and she stepped inside. She pressed the right level's button and stepped back. As the doors began to close, she heard a familiar voice calling, "Hold the elevator! Hold the-"

Harper lurched forward and instinctively shoved her hand against the rapidly closing door, causing it to jerk back open. Jerry sighed in relief as he slowed his fast pace to a walk toward the opening doors. Harper smiled. "Hey, Jerry," she greeted. He stepped in beside her and smiled back, a little out of breath. "Hey, Harper. What brings you by?" he asked, panting. The doors slid closed, and the elevator began its ascent.

"Oh, Steve wanted me to come by. Something about the case, I guess," she explained, casually.

"Ah. I see," his eyebrows lifted just so as he turned to face the silver elevator doors, and Harper raised a brow at his actions. She smiled, shaking her head. "Jerry, It's not a social call," she assured.

"Uh huh," he smiled a cheesy, closed-mouthed smile. She chuckled a little on a sigh, turning to face the doors. "I just figured, you know, you're smiling an awful lot for it to be about a case, is all." He shrugged, glancing at her. Harper nodded knowingly. Just then, the doors opened on Harper's level. Before she stepped out, she turned to Jerry. "That, my friend, is for an entirely different reason," she said, giving him a small smile. "Nice seeing you, Jer!"

As she started out, he replied, "Good seeing you, too, Harper!"

Steve sat at his desk, going over the evidence they had on the case. That would be almost completely nothing. They had nothing that could tie the ring to anyone specific. It was all hearsay, he said she said. There was no concrete _here's who did it_ , and it was starting to bug Steve incredibly. He sighed heavily. Then his head shot up at a small knock on his office door. He was surprised to see Harper there so soon, but she was a welcome sight.

He noticed she was smiling, but it looked different on her. It was like before she was kidnapped. The ends of her eye lids crinkled, her lips curved all the way up, and the brightness reached her eyes. It was completely genuine. It surprised him even further. "Hey," she said, stepping in a bit. "Bad time?"

"What? No, no- uh, come in," he stood, gesturing for her to enter. She nodded and walked in fully, letting the door fall closed behind her. He walked around the desk to meet her, placing a kiss on her forehead as his arms snaked around her middle. "Before you say anything, I need to tell you something," Harper said, pulling back to see his face.

He raised an eyebrow, pausing. "Should I be worried?"

"No, It's good, I promise. At least, I think it's good," she inhaled a deep breath before speaking again. "Layla told me she has a flight planned for Saturday. There's a plane heading back to Florida and she was going to be on it but, this happened, and it kind of foiled the plan."

"Okay..." he tried to urge her to continue, but she seemed nervous. He couldn't quite tell if it was a good nervous or a bad nervous. He put his hands on her upper arms supportively, getting her attention. "Hey. It's okay. Whatever it is, I won't be mad. I promise."

She looked at him for a nerve-racking second, then exhaled. "I'm gonna go," she finally announced. Steve paused, unsure if what he heard was real or a figment of his imagination. She was actually going to leave. It was almost unbelievable. He smiled brightly. "That's great! I'm so happy for you," he pulled her into a hug.

"Really? You don't think it's bad timing? I mean, with Layla and the baby-"

"No. I think it's perfect. I think you deserve time off, and you deserve answers," he replied, standing back a step. "I'm proud of you. I really am." She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, feeling an almost bubbly excitement in her chest. She was actually going to do it. She was actually going to leave. Then she remembered why she was there to begin with, and she stepped back. "Okay, now, what was it you called me here about?" she asked.

"Right. Come with me." His fingers locked with hers and he led the way out to the touch screen table. It was already set up and ready to use. Steve had readied pictures of the known associated members of the fight club. So far, that was just the fighters—Megan, Bryan, Kylie, Will—the man who handled the bets—Adam Kent—and the possible middle man, connected to everyone, including the ring leader—Andrew Delle. The goal was to have Harper look through the pictures.

Mostly, it was to have her look at Adam Kent and Andrew Delle. Maybe she'd seen them and didn't even know it? Her eyes scanned the photo of Adam Kent. His scruffy appearance wasn't entirely familiar. But there was something about him that was. "Talk to me. What are you thinking?" Steve asked, watching her.

She sighed. "I don't know. This guy looks sort of familiar. I can't place him."

"What about Andrew Delle? Seen him before?" he asked, swiping the image left. Andrew's face appeared next on screen. He was a lanky man with long black hair and odd, round sunglasses. The only pictures they had of him were stills from cameras at the Airport when he arrived three months ago. They weren't the best quality, but they gave a pretty good view. Harper shook her head. "No," she answered.

Steve nodded. "Okay. Did anyone ever say any names? Did they talk about-"

Steve's words were cut off by Chin bursting into the main room, hurrying through the glass doors. Both Harper and Steve were alarmed by his sudden entrance. "HPD just picked up Derek West," Chin announced. "They've got him at the hospital now—he was in pretty bad shape. He's asking for you." Chin looked at Harper when he said 'you'. Her eyes widened and she looked to Steve. "Alright, come on," he said, gesturing for her to follow as he headed after Chin, through the glass doors.


	12. Derek Found

Chin led the way through the hospital hall to Derek's room. Harper was a bundle of nerves beside Steve as they walked into the room. Derek lay in a hospital bed against the left wall. The familiar, soft beeping of the machines was the only sound in the room. Derek looked up as they entered, and Harper instantly felt guilty for his appearance. Bruises marred both areas around his eyes—especially his right—and the nurses had bandaged some kind of head wound on his left side.

Though, he didn't look to be all that upset about it. He just seemed relieved to see a familiar face as his eyes settled on Harper. "Bryan said you had friends in the Police Department. I didn't think you were in it with Five-0," he commented, with a subtle hint of sarcasm. "The more the merrier, I guess."

"What happened to you?" Harper asked, moving to stand at the end of the bed, stepping past Steve. Chin and Steve hung back a second, closer to the door. Derek shrugged one-shouldered with an outline of what could be a smile. "You think you guys got out alone? Someone had to shut down the cameras," he answered, lightly.

"You...what? But I stole the keycard off you and you just just vanished," she pointed out.

"Yeah, I was in a holding cell. Bryan let me out and I took care of the cameras so the boss couldn't send reinforcements before your boyfriend could show up," Derek explained, gesturing toward Steve at the word 'boyfriend'. "After that...they caught me trying to get back to the arena. I was beaten and thrown into another cage. It's been a charmed life."

Steve took the break in conversation to step up. "Do you know who's in charge of the ring?" Derek's gaze flickered to Harper a split second. She gave a small nod, encouraging him to answer, eager to finally hear a name. "Yeah, I do. It's Harrison Morgan," Derek replied, sounding bitter.

"Ellie's father?" Chin stepped up next to Steve, raising an eyebrow.

Derek nodded. "If you need proof, look in my jacket pocket. I have the surveillance tapes of the bet booth on a drive." Harper turned and walked to the plush chair in the corner beside the bed, where Derek's clothes lay in a pile. She grabbed his jacket and fumbled for the pocket. "Bet booth?" Steve asked.

"It's where they place and pay out on bets," Derek clarified. "He floats in and out, but I think I have enough for a conviction as an accomplice—at least." Harper pulled a black flash drive from Derek's pocket and gave it to Chin. Chin turned to Steve. "I'll start combing through the footage," he said, to which Steve nodded. Chin left the room with the drive, and Harper walked back over to stand beside Steve. "If we do get evidence to arrest, we'll need you to testify," Steve told Derek.

"Wouldn't miss it," Derek agreed.

Danny pushed through the door into Harrison Morgan's office at Jet Enterprises, Kono following shortly behind. The receptionist called after them but they continued straight for Harrison's desk. Harrison sat in the office chair behind it on a phone call when they barged in. He quickly ended the call and stood as Danny approached the desk. "And what can I do for you this time, Detective Williams?" Harrison asked.

"You can let me arrest you without making a scene," Danny answered, moving around the desk to Harrison.

Harrison chuckled humorlessly. "Ah, very funny."

"Do we look like we're joking?" Kono asked, standing opposite the desk as Harrison. Danny grabbed Harrison's arm and pulled it behind his back, then grabbed the other and did the same before pulling out his handcuffs. Harrison looked mildly panicked. "Wha- you can't do this. You have no evidence!"

"Really?We'll be the judge of that. Move," Danny gave Harrison a shove, then started pulling him toward the office exit. Kono smirked and followed behind, making sure to thank the receptionist for 'letting them in on such short notice' before leaving.

Harper sat quietly in Steve's office. It was hard to believe they actually had the identity of who was behind her kidnapping. It was surreal. After over a month of not knowing and feeling like it was still such an open wound, it was finally closed. She startled out of her deep train of thought as Chin walked into the office. He gave a small smile and sat beside her on the ottoman. "Hey. How are you doing?" he asked.

She shook her head a little, still thinking quite a bit. "I don't know yet."

"In my experience, it's best to stay out of your head in a situation like this," Chin gave her a knowing look and she glanced at him, trying to focus on something other than the information whirling around. "It's best to keep it all out of it until it's done. Then, find someone to talk to about it and go from there." She made for her best small smile and adjusted her position, looking down. A comfortable silence fell in between them for a long moment.

Then Chin spoke up again, turning to her. "I'm here if you need to talk. Or if you just need moral support," he told her, gently. Harper instantly looked up at him with surprise on her features. She was genuinely touched by the offer and she definitely didn't expect to hear that from him. But she did and it was incredibly nice. "Thank you, Chin," she said, taken aback.

"We're _all_ here for you, you know. You may be dating Steve but the position comes with all of us. You're Ohana, Harper. You're family," he continued. "We're always gonna be there for you when you need us, and sometimes even when you don't. Just remember that, okay?" Not knowing what to say, Harper wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug and he was quick to return it.

Danny shoved Harrison onto the metal chair in interrogation. "I want my lawyer," Harrison wailed. Danny stepped back beside Kono, and Kono sighed. "You know, I think our phone lines are a bit glitchy today. Right, Danny?" she glanced at Danny and he nodded.

"Oh, yeah. It's really bad. Probably won't get fixed for a couple days," Danny agreed.

"You see, because I keep trying to call your lawyer, but all it does is call Steve McGarrett," Kono said, drenching her words with spiteful sarcasm as she turned her phone to show Harrison. "Who is not very happy with you, by the way. So I suggest you talk before he gets here. Unless, of course, you _want_ your face all over this floor." Harrison glanced between the two, obviously weighing his options. He adjusted his position and sighed heavily.

"Alright, fine. Yes, I am in charge of the fight ring operation," he admitted. "But, you should know, this isn't the first and it won't be the last."

"What are you talking about?" Danny asked, confused.

"I am in charge of this ring. However, there are other rings on the island," Harrison clarified. Danny and Kono shared a grim glance. Kono turned to Harrison. "Who runs the others?" she asked. Harrison's lips broke into a triumphant smiling smirk, only driving a sinking feeling further into the pit of Kono's stomach. He answered, "Gabriel Waincroft."


	13. Just A Pawn

Danny ran his hands over his face as he walked in the opposite direction of Harrison. So it was Gabriel behind the fights. Kono was wondering what in the world the man was up to these days, and she guessed it just so happened to turn out he was in the illegal fight ring business. It seemed a little odd to her for him to be involved in something so crude. But anything was possible. Harrison just smirked at them. "Yeah, good luck finding who's _really_ responsible," he said, somewhat sarcastically.

"You're still going to jail, buddy, I promise you that," Kono corrected.

"Don't you see? I'm just a pawn! Just like the rest of those in charge of this ring." Harrison settled back into his chair with an exhale of minor annoyance and Kono looked to Danny. Danny finally turned back to face him, standing near the door. "You really expect us to believe that?" Danny asked, unbelieving. "After all you've done?"

Harrison was about to respond when the door to the interrogation room burst open, startling all three of its occupants. Steve marched into the room, practically fuming, and Danny tried to grab him and stop him. Kono moved to assist Danny but Steve easily broke out of both their grasps and reached Harrison.

Steve sent his fist square into Harrison's jaw, nearly knocking him clear off the metal chair. "That's for Harper," Steve said. He grabbed Harrison's shirt collar and hefted him back to normal seating position on the chair, then hit him again in the same place. "And that's because you deserve a whole lot worse than my fist." Harrison coughed blood onto the tile floor as Steve stepped back. Danny sighed and stepped up beside him. "Was that really necessary?" Danny asked.

"Why would you ask me that? Of course that was necessary, Danny," Steve replied, like it should be obvious, turning to face Danny. "He locked up _Harper_ and who knows how many others and forced them to _fight_ each other while he made money off their deaths."

"We know he's a major league scumbag, but he already confessed. He's going to jail," Danny assured. Steve looked at Harrison, secretly wishing he could do more to hurt him. Even jail was too good for that man, in Steve's mind. At least he was able to get _some_ kind of revenge.

Harper drove back to the hospital. She not only needed to check in on Layla and the baby, but she needed to see Derek as well. So she checked in at the nurse desk and walked down the hallway until she reached his room—107. Her knuckles rapped on the door twice as she slowly pushed it open, peering her head around the corner. "Knock knock. Are you decent?" she asked.

"That depends on your definition," Derek replied. Harper smiled as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "What brings you by?"

"I came to give you this." Harper held out her hand as Derek raised an eyebrow at her. His eyes dropped to the keycard in her fingers' grasp. Mixed emotions bubbled up in both of them. Harper hoped it would be a sign that they were at a truce. But there was still a strong chance he would take it badly. Though, he didn't seem agitated by the gesture. Instead he took the card from her hand and looked at it more closely. "You kept this?" he asked, surprised. "Why would you do that?"

"It was a reminder. We still had one of ours missing," she answered, lightly. He glanced up at her a second, then looked back at the badge with a slightly bewildered expression. "I don't need it anymore, so I thought you could do the honor of holding onto it. Or throwing it away—whatever you choose."

He huffed a breathy chuckle. "Thanks...how are the others?" Harper moved to sit on the edge of the bed, near the end, positioned to face him. "They're dealing with it. They have a support group of sorts at Bryan's house tonight," she said. "I suppose we're all a lot better thanks to you. I'm sorry for being difficult in there. I didn't realize...I wasn't thinking about the consequences of my actions."

"Ah, save it, Harper. It wasn't your fault for any of it, alright? Get that through your head. It wasn't your fault," he pressed, sure. She nodded with a closed-mouthed smile knowing he was right, but still not quite feeling it. After a second she stood and walked toward the door, then turned around. "I won't bother you any further. I have other business to attend to in this joint," she said, jutting a thumb over her shoulder.

Derek nodded once. "Thanks for stopping by." She returned the nod and quickly slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind her. The walk to Layla's side of the hospital was quiet and slow. She needed time to clear her head a bit and take a breather from today's events. It'd been a stressful day for everyone. Harper finally arrived at Layla's room just past four pm.

She eagerly opened the door to the room and walked in, skidding to a stop when she saw Layla already had a guest. A man she didn't recognize with close shaved hair sat at Layla's bedside. It seemed like Harper interrupted a conversation. Layla looked to Harper. "Hey, there you are. I was wondering where you got off to," she smiled. "You can finally meet my husband—Lucas. Lucas, this is Harper, my half-sister." Lucas stood and walked toward Harper, holding a hand out.

Harper tried to retract her rounded eyes as she shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you. Layla told me a lot about you," Lucas smiled politely.

"It's nice to meet you to. Have you been down to the NICU?" Harper inquired.

"I'm afraid I just got here," he shook his head. "I'd really like to, though."

"Okay. I can show you where he is, if you want?" Harper had been meaning to go down to see Henry a lot sooner, so it was convenient to go with Lucas. That and it would be nice to get to know him, she supposed. Lucas nodded gratefully. "Yeah, that would be great. Thank you. Layla, do you mind if-" Lucas twisted to see Layla, but she cut him off with a big smile and a wave. "Go on. Don't let me stop you," she said. "I'll be fine here."

Lucas turned back to Harper and she smiled, gesturing to the door. "Right this way." Harper led the way to the elevators. The NICU was one floor down and on the opposite side of the hospital. Every trip was a lot of walking. Harper tried to make conversation as they stepped out of the elevators. "You were overseas?" she said, lightly.

Lucas nodded. "Yes, Afghanistan. There are only a few of us left over there but we manage. I heard I have you to thank for getting me back so fast. Layla told me you have certain complicated connections?" The innocent smile he wore let her know it was supposed to be lighthearted, so she smiled back and nodded. "Yeah...my boyfriend's ex was still in contact with some of her Navy buddies," she explained, casually.

"Well, either way, thank you. It means a lot to me—and to Layla—that I'm here," Lucas thanked, genuinely. "I owe you." They rounded a corner and Harper shook her head quickly, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets. "Oh, no. You owe me nothing," she declined.

"We'll see about that," he said, a smile to his tone. Harper and Lucas visited with Henry James. It was the first time Lucas saw his son. Harper tried to maintain a certain level of unemotional. But as soon as she noticed Lucas getting choked up, she found herself sniffling. She hung back by the door to give him space until he was done, then she walked him back up to Layla's room.

It was six thirty when Harper finally walked in the front door of her apartment. She let the door fall closed as she went to her bedroom to change. The meeting she'd agreed to go to tonight was at seven so she wouldn't have much time to prepare herself before leaving straight to Bryan's house. She'd never been there before, but he'd texted the address not long ago. It wasn't specified if the meeting was formal or casual.

But Harper tried to think comfort as she stared at her closet. She laid out an outfit of loose denim jeans and a random navy blue top on the bed, and then headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. The sense of finality that bringing in Harrison gave her was enough to get her through today—and possibly a lot more days. It was just a reassurance to know that this wasn't going to happen to her or anyone else ever again. It was a good feeling.

Harper dried her hair as much as she could with the time constraint and pulled on a jacket, then headed out the door. She had a GPS app tell her the directions while she drove and she managed to arrive at Bryan's house in one piece. She parked along the sidewalk, behind another smaller car before the drive way. The house was a two level home with a modern style to it. Harper took a deep breath before knocking twice. It took a second. But then the door pulled open, and Kylie smiled at her.

"Hey, Harper. Long time no see," she said, pulling Harper into an unsuspected hug. Harper felt a little awkward, but she tried to hug Kylie back. "Where have you been?"

"Here and there," Harper brushed over it, stepping back.

"Let the girl inside, Kylie!" a male voice called from deep inside the house. Kylie paused her movement and rolled her eyes with a sigh. "I was getting to that!" she hollered back, stepping aside for Harper to enter. Harper walked in a ways as Kylie shut the door behind her. There was a small front room that opened into a wide living room of sofas, and the living room opened left to a large kitchen. She immediately spotted Bryan and Megan.

Though, there were a few people she didn't even know existed. She guessed they were other fighters. Kylie walked past Harper toward the living room, saying, "Come on, party's in here." Harper felt like a fish out of water. She had no idea what to do and what not to do, how to act or what to she did her best to keep her chin up and stepped into the living room. Bryan cut off his conversation with someone she didn't recognize to come over to her.

He stood a foot from her. "Glad you could make it," he greeted. "How are you feeling about all this?"

"A little weird," she admitted, glancing around at the different conversations being held. How many fighters could there have been? She hadn't even seen half these people during her time underground nor had Bryan ever mentioned this capacity of guests. It was intimidating. "Don't worry, they don't bite. Want something to drink?" he asked.

"Water's fine, thanks," she nodded with a small smile. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and then headed into the kitchen. "Harper?" She whirled right at the sound of her name, freezing at the sight of who voiced it. "Will. Hi," she said, unsure of what else to say. Will didn't look exactly how she'd remembered. His hair was longer and curled around his ears. The civilian clothes threw her off a bit. Last time she saw him, he was still in the white uniform.

He stayed a short distance back. She couldn't tell if he was quite happy to see her or if she was just a painful reminder. "How have you been?" he asked, slowly, hesitant. Harper thought about the question, thinking of how to phrase it. She cleared her throat. "Not good, but not bad either," she tried to convey. "How have _you_ been?"

"Probably about the same," He bobbed his head, looking at something slightly over her shoulder. Then he looked to her. "I've been wanting to ask—have they found Matt yet?"

Harper nodded a little. "Yeah. They did." Will seemed relieved by the news, but he still remained a constant look of depression mixed with steel. It was his signature grumpy look, the same one he'd worn underground, the only thing she'd ever seen on him. "We bickered a lot, Mattie and me...but he was like my brother," Will said, quietly venting. Harper's heart ached hearing his words. "I don't blame you for what happened in there. Bryan told me how it happened. It wasn't your fault."

She was taken aback, but did her best to not show it, nodding a bit. "Thank you." Will flashed a small, closed-mouthed smile before walking past her toward the kitchen. She took a deep breath to keep the lump in her throat at bay. Just then, Bryan returned. He held out a glass of water to her and she took it gratefully, taking a drink while Bryan faced everyone in the living room. "Alright. Are we gonna stand around all night or are we gonna do what we came here to do?"


	14. On Her Way

An alarm clock blaring burned through the hazing fog whirling around Harper's mind. She groaned as she rolled over, slapping the snooze button. It was Saturday morning. The plane for Florida was set to leave at eleven am, and she hadn't done any packing yet. Her curse of over-procrastinating once again came back to bite her. She slid out of bed and ambled into the bathroom, groggily turning on the shower water. Though she was only half lucid, she'd have to get everything done.

So she showered and dried her hair, got dressed and fixed what little make up she did wear, and then started packing a bag. She didn't plan on staying in Florida long. Just long enough to meet her mother and get the answers she needed and then fly back. But she packed enough for a few extra days just in case. Her duffel was bulging by the time she got it zipped at ten am. She hefted it out into the living room and dropped it beside the front door, then went back into her bedroom.

She grabbed an empty back pack from her closet and used it to store her personals and toiletries. That way it could be a carry-on stay closer to her on the plane. Darcy was running about the room while she did so, his tail wagging, cluing into the fact that she was leaving much sooner than she would've liked. The backpack finished much easier to zip than the duffel. She went to the front and dropped it with the duffel just before a knock sounded at the door.

She checked her watch. It was roughly ten-thirty. Steve was due any time really, as they hadn't set a concrete time the night before. He didn't give her a choice when he said he was taking her to the airport. Not that she would've protested much anyway. She probably would have jumped at the offer. There was no way she wanted to go alone. She hummed lightly as she pulled open the door, smiling as she saw Steve standing outside.

He smiled back. "You ready?"

"Yep. My bag's all packed." She nudged her duffel with her foot, chuckling a little. Steve barked a laugh at the sight of its bulging folds—threatening to burst open completely at the zipper—and grabbed the overly full bag off the floor. Darcy wiggled his way out of the apartment with the door open and Harper sighed. "Sorry, bud. You can't come with me," she apologized, calling him back inside.

He looked slightly saddened, like he somehow understood her words as his trotting back to her. She knelt down in front of him and he nudged her middle with his wet nose. Scratching behind his ears, she inhaled. "You be good, okay? Don't be too hard for Bryan," she instructed, half-heartedly. "I'll be back before you know it." Steve decided to take the bags to his truck to give Harper and Darcy some privacy.

Sometimes it startled him just how deeply Harper felt for the things she loved. She was an intense feeler, and it was just one of the many things on the list that made him love her. He tossed the duffel and back pack in the bed of the truck and sighed. He paused, eyeing the bags. It suddenly dawned on him. She was really going all the way to the states—to the East coast, no less. It was one of the farthest states from Hawaii.

He'd wanted her to go, practically begged her to. But now that it was happening, he didn't quite know how he should feel about it. The passenger side door opening beside him interrupted his thoughts. "Everything okay?" Harper asked, curiously, hanging on the door. He shook himself from his head and smiled. "Yeah. Let's get you on that plane," he said, causing her to smile before climbing onto the seat.

She shut her door and he walked around the front to the driver's side. Once he was up and in the truck, he started the engine and began driving. It wouldn't take too long to get to the airport. This was good and bad at the same time. Good because Harper was running late. Bad because Steve wouldn't get as much last minute time with her as he'd hoped. He would've planned something for them to do together before she left but the trip was so sudden.

When she'd finally decided, they only had a day before the flight. But he knew she needed to go, he knew why she needed to go, and so he settled on calling it a necessary evil. They arrived at the airport shortly and checked in Harper's bags, then went to the security checkpoint—the farthest Steve could walk with her without having a ticket himself. "This is it," Harper stated, trying to keep her tone light.

As if that would somehow stave off what was coming or how she would feel about it. Steve exhaled, turning to her. She looked up at him and he plastered on a smile. "I'm really glad you decided to do this. It'll be good for you to see your mom, get some answers," he said, avoiding what he wished he could say. What his heart was screaming for him to say. Don't leave, stay with me. I love you, I need you.

This trip was for Harper. Asking her to stay, he knew, would just be selfish. "Yeah…I'm gonna miss you, though," she said, tilting her head in a reply. "I'll call you when I land, I guess?"

"When you land, when you breathe, before you go to sleep, when you wake up…" he listed.

She laughed and playfully shoved his arm, and he laughed, too. "I love you," she wrapped her arms around his middle, holding on tightly.

"I love you, too." He held onto her just as tightly, kissing the top of her head and nestling his cheek against her temple. Just then, the overhead speak sounded, announcing another flight ready to board. And it was Harper's. Reluctantly, she stepped back, but his arms kept her close. "I'll be right here when you get back," he assured, firmly.

"You better be."

She rose on her toes and he tipped his head down to meet her halfway, capturing her lips in a deep kiss. It could only last for a second before she had to go. But leaving without it would feel wrong. After a moment, they separated and finally let go of each other. Harper pulled her jacket closed, said one last goodbye, and then she went through security. It was an odd feeling, boarding the plane and finding her seat.

It wasn't the sickening, constricting feeling of panic she expected. It got her heart beating faster. But that was it. Otherwise, she felt completely normal leaving. Maybe it was a sign, she thought. A sign that things will be okay. That she was actually meant to go to Florida. That she made the right decision. As the plane took off, she was starting to think she was actually right for a change.


	15. Hui hou (Reunited)

The plane landed at the Brooksville-Tampa Bay Regional Airport. The flight was fine and Harper didn't have any problems getting through baggage. But she realized, walking toward the exit, she hadn't made any other travel arrangements with Layla or her family for when she landed. Just as that thought crossed her mind, she paused at something curious. There was a man in a crisp tuxedo holding a white sign with the word 'Kelly' written across it.

Surely it couldn't have been meant for her, so she kept walking. As she neared passing the man, he spoke. "Excuse me, miss. Are you Harper Kelly?" he asked, with an indescribable accent that over punctuated every vowel. Now Harper stopped, surprised.

"Um…yes, I am," she replied, turning toward the man. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

"Layla called and sent me for your arrival while you were in flight," the man explained, tucking the sign under his arm. "Please, allow me to take these for you." Without warning, he plucked her bags from her arms and then started walking with a curtly, "The car is just out front." Harper was baffled by the whole situation. But if Layla set it up, why not use it? So she followed the man outside the airport.

Sure enough, a shiny black Rolls Royce was waiting parked alongside the curb. The man opened the back and started putting her duffel and back pack in. Harper stood on the sidewalk beside the car, still a little in shock from it all. "So, um…sorry, what's your name?" Harper asked.

The man shut the back and walked around to Harper's side, the passenger side, and pulled open the back door. "You can call me Mr. Wright," he answered, gesturing for her to get in the car with a hand. A little reluctantly, Harper slid into the back seat and Mr. Wright closed the door behind her. Everything in the car seemed too perfect. Like if she moved or even breathed the wrong way something expensive would break.

So she sat still as much as possible, clipping on her seatbelt. Mr. Wright slid into the front seat and started the engine, then pulled away from the sidewalk. "Where exactly is the house?" Harper asked, leaning left just enough to see the man in the rear view mirror. "I didn't get a chance to ask Layla."

"Nantucket, Miss Kelly. The Rainbow Cottages."

"And you're _June's_ driver?"

"I'm afraid not. My services are hired by Mr. Cummings…and that of his daughter." Harper tried to recall what Layla had said about her parents. _June was single and the ex had moved on_. So her ex-step father was paying for this? From Mr. Wright's tone he didn't seem too pleased about the daughter part. But that could've just been Harper's interpretation and not the actual context. So she chose to ignore it.

The drive was nice, quiet. She'd never been to Florida before so it was interesting to see what the layout of the land was like. When they finally arrived at the Rainbow Cottages Mr. Wright had mentioned, it was near three o'clock in the afternoon. They pulled up in front of a light blue cottage, between two pink cottages, and Mr. Wright slid from the driver's seat. First he went to Harper's door and opened it for her.

After she got out, he shut the door and went for the bags in the back. Harper took the opportunity to survey the house. It was a trim two-level home with neatly manicured shrubbery and a crisp lawn surrounding it, along with the palm trees nudged between all of the cottages. She could see the makings of a fenced pool behind the cottage as well. All she could think of was how much this must all cost.

And they weren't near any kind of cancer treatment facility. It brought so many questions. Like, _who was paying for this?_ And, _how was June getting treatment if she lived here?_ She filed the questions away on a post-it note in her mind to ask about later. Just then, Mr. Wright closed up the car and brought Harper's bags to the clean sidewalk. "Right this way," he nodded, and started for the front door.

Harper took a deep breath and followed shortly behind. It was so surreal. Right behind a simple thing as a wooden door were the answers to the questions that had threatened to choke her for many years—her whole life, even. Mr. Wright pushed through the door and Harper stepped inside behind him. "You will be staying in the guest room, just up the stairs and to the left," he explained, closing the door behind them.

"Okay, thank you," she said, stopping just before the living room. The wide, open living area leads right, into an open faced kitchen. And straight ahead from the front door was the back door, over-looking the pool Harper spotted from the sidewalk. "Let me know if I can be of service," Mr. Wright said, before skirting around her and leaving through the front door. Harper suddenly felt a bit claustrophobic.

She wasn't trapped in, it was a very open space. But she couldn't breathe quite right. Then she noticed it—the silhouette sitting in a chair in the living room, near the backdoor, facing away from her—and it felt even worse. Against everything in her, telling her to run, she started walking. One foot in front of the other. Slow, careful steps across the living room.

The closer she got, the better she could see just who it was. An older looking woman wearing a rose-colored knit cap to cover an obviously bald head, an open book in hand, not seeming to have noticed Harper was there yet. It was The Book Thief from what she could tell. "June?" Harper's voice came out small, strangled.

But the woman looked up as Harper stood a few feet from the chair. Her worn features creased and folded as her lips curved up into a smile. "Hello," she greeted. Her voice wasn't at all what Harper was expecting, but there was something familiar in it. "It's so nice to finally see you."

Harper swallowed. She didn't know how to act, what to say. "Please, sit," June offered, gesturing a hand out at the chair a foot or two across from her. Sitting, Harper thought, was probably a good idea. That way, her legs couldn't collapse from beneath her. So she sidestepped over to the chair and carefully lowered herself in it. For a moment, all she could do was stare at the woman. But June wasn't as keen on the silence. "It was a long flight. You must be hungry? Thirsty? I can get you something-"

"No, no- that's okay," Harper shook her head.

June nodded a little, sitting back in her chair an inch. "Well, I'm sure you must have questions then? I know I certainly do."

"You go first."

"Oh, alright...were you adopted? Was the family nice?" June seemed eager. Hopeful, more like. Secretly hoping that she hadn't made a mistake in trusting her fears at sixteen. But Harper shook her head, only draining the hope from June's face. "I wasn't adopted," Harper answered, neutrally as possible. "I moved around to a lot of different homes."

"I see. Where did you go?"

"A few different states. San Diego was my home for a long time. That and Arizona."

June sat forward. "Arizona's nice."

"Um, it's alright. The people aren't the best."

"They were good to you, though, right?"

"No," Harper shook her head. And June's face dropped. She didn't know what it was. Anger, hatred, vindictiveness. She didn't know what specifically, but something made Harper pull up her sleeve and bare her forearm—more specifically her wrist—for the woman across from her to see. June's eyes drifted down as Harper spoke. "They beat me. Yelled at me, starved me, worked me until I dropped." June's eyes rounded and then softened.

She placed a frail looking, jittering hand over her lips. "Oh my..."

"I waited for you. Every day of my life I spent in that God forsaken house—I waited for you. I waited for you to realize your mistake and come find me and take me home. But you never did. And I spent _years_ there. Completely helpless to what they were doing. No one would help me, no one would believe me," Harper vented, letting it out finally. Letting out what she would've said earlier, but didn't know how. June looked mortified.

Completely horror-stricken, sitting silently. At a total loss for words. Finally, she took a shaky breath, and lowered her hand back into her lap. She looked to Harper's face. "I'm so sorry, I...I didn't know what else to do, I...my little baby girl..." the woman looked on the verge of tears. And Harper felt bad for a second. But then she felt all the anger inside her from all those broken and damaged years and she didn't feel so bad anymore.

She dropped her sleeve and sat up straight, her expression firm. Unyielding. "I never wanted any of this to happen," June explained, almost pleadingly so. "I was so scared—I couldn't raise a child on my own. We'd have both been living in a dumpster somewhere! I thought I was doing the right thing, giving you to someone that could care for you the way you deserved."

"And you never once wondered about me?" Harper questioned.

"I thought about you every day. There was not a moment when I _didn't_ wonder what happened to you," June corrected.

Harper fiddled with her hands in her lap, not knowing what else to do with them. She felt naked. Vulnerable. There was no hiding anymore. There was nothing to put in between herself and this situation. All she could do was get her answers. "Why didn't you come get me?" Harper's voice cracked. "When you started a new family- why didn't you find me?"

June loosened her shoulders, eyes full of water. "I thought...I thought maybe you'd found a home. And if I'd found you, I would've ruined that for you. I didn't want to be the reason you weren't happy."

"Don't you get it? You _were_ the reason I wasn't happy," Harper was fuming through the tears starting to roll off her cheeks.

"Yes, I...I understand that now," June nodded a little, her voice quiet. "Please know that I- I am truly sorry for all of the horrible things I put you through. It was the last thing I wanted. I understand that I made a mistake. Trust me, dear, I know what I've done. But if you can find it in your heart to accept my apology...or at least, for my sake, pretend you forgive me...I will never bother you again."

Harper paused. "What do you mean?"

"I'm dying, sweetheart. I don't have much time left. Even if you don't forgive me, lying to me will do just fine. Once I have that...I can die in peace."

"You..." Harper sat back, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "You wanted to get my forgiveness so you can die? But, Layla said-"

"I'm afraid Layla was ill informed. I didn't want her to be too upset had she not found you. But I've been ready to leave this earth for a long while," June explained, calmly. It didn't seem to faze the woman. Like dying was something she'd made peace with. But dying without seeing her, Harper assumed, had not been dealt with yet. "I only kept up treatment on the chance I might get to see you."

A confusing mess of bittersweet emotions tangled in a ball in Harper's stomach. Now she just felt sad. So deeply saddened. "But, I...I just met you," Harper sounded hopeless.

"Well, I'd still like to get to know you, if that would be alright."

Harper nodded, swiping at her under eye with her sleeve. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

"Where do you live? Is it nice there?"

"Hawaii, and yeah it's pretty nice. I, um, I surf," Harper answered. June perked up at that, sitting forward in her seat as she continued, "Yeah, I worked at this little beach shack right next to the ocean. Right now I'm trying to get a job taking photos."

June's lips curled up. "You're a photographer?"

"A little, I guess," Harper nodded.

"Do you have any pets? Friends?" June inquired. She seemed too enlightened to stop asking questions. She'd wanted to know for so long. It was too hard to hold herself back once she got a taste. June was finally getting to know the child she'd wanted to hold since the moment she'd let her go. "I have a dog—Darcy," Harper answered. "And, I have a few friends. They're mostly just my boyfriend's co-workers, though."

"A boyfriend?"

"Yeah, uh, he's a cop of sorts. He runs a special task force, Five-0."

June looked overjoyed. "What's this young man's name?"

"Steve McGarrett," Harper replied.

"What's he like?" Just sat back, crossing a leg over her knee. Only drawing to attention the thin, frail state of her body. Harper tried to ignore it and just answer the question, but it tugged at her the whole time. "Well, he was a Navy Seal, big military guy—so he's pretty fit. And he's tall, with dark hair. He's guarded about a lot of things. But he's got a big heart," Harper described.

"Do you think there's a wedding in the near future?" June prodded, with a light smile.

Harper chuckled a little. "Uh, well, I don't know about that."

"But you love him? And you're happy?"

"Yeah...I'm happy," Harper nodded a little. Happy in the way June meant it, yes. Happy in other ways would be a stretch.


	16. Ka mea Olelo pomaikai oia (She Promised)

Harper woke with a jolt, quickly lifting her head from the pillow at the loud sound of buzzing piercing her ears. Her cell phone was about to vibrate itself right off the edge of the nightstand beside the bed. She quickly grabbed it, not even looking at the caller ID before answering, giving a half-asleep, "Yeah- hello?"

"Hey, it's Steve," the voice on the other end replied. "Everything okay?"

"What? Yeah, why would...oh, I forgot to call, didn't I? I'm sorry. So much was going on and I completely spaced it."

Steve chuckled. "It's fine, I'm glad you're alright."

"Wait a second," Harper nudged the corner of the blanket out of the way, clearing the path to see her alarm clock. It was eight AM. "Isn't only, like, two AM in Hawaii?"

"Yeah, I'm working late on a case," Steve exhaled, tiredly.

Harper sat up, pushing back the blanket, and swung her legs off the side of the bed. "Must be pretty important to keep you up so late."

"I think I'm just procrastinating, really. Well, more like dreading going home. Finding it empty. I haven't slept alone for a long time." His voice sounded empty, and Harper felt a pang of helplessness. And a stab of regret. Something small inside her saying she shouldn't have left. But another part of her was telling her to grow up. To be a big girl. She inhaled, standing. "Who knows? It might be nice," she said, trying to sound optimistic.

"Nice?" Steve inquired, chuckling a little.

"Yeah. You'll have the bed to yourself, you won't have to worry about some crazy lady kicking your brains out in the middle of the night. You know, nice." She smiled at the sound his laughter on the other end as she dug through her suitcase for something to wear. She'd packed enough clothes to last her a few weeks. But, wouldn't you know it, she had nothing to wear. Steve sighed. "Yeah, maybe. So how are things going with your mom?"

"Alright, I guess," Harper tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear, in need of both hands. "We had an...interesting conversation last night. It's just weird, you know? I've waited my whole life for this and, now that I'm here, I have no clue what to say." She laid out a peach colored tank top and denim shorts, then rummaging around in the suitcase for her sandals.

"Just speak from your heart. Say everything you've ever wanted to say," Steve suggested.

"What if some of those things involve curse words?" she asked, mostly teasing.

He huffed a chuckle. "Maybe not those ones. Save those for your pillow."

"Good idea," she smiled, though he couldn't see. A knock on the door behind her caught her attention, and she stood up straight. "I've got to go. But you get some sleep, alright? Eight hours. No exceptions."

"Got it, boss. I love you."

"I love you, too." She ended her side of the call and tossed the phone on the bed, before walking to the door. Opening it revealed June. Sporting a cyan sundress and matching knit cap. Beaming in the color, almost too brightly for this early hour. Harper smiled lightly at the woman. "Morning," she greeted.

"Good morning. I hope I'm not disturbing you," June apologized.

Harper waved it away. "No, not at all."

"Oh, good. I just wanted to let you know breakfast will be ready in about five minutes if you're hungry."

"Okay, thank you. I'm going to take a quick shower and I'll be right down."

June smiled. "Alright, I'll see you then."

Harper nodded in reply and closed the door, exhaling the breath she'd been holding onto once it was firmly shut in between them. It was hard to find her place here. Where to put her foot. How to act and what to say. She had to take it in stride. After showering and getting dressed, she took to the stairs. It was a beautiful morning. Bright sun and a cool breeze blew in through the back windows. Harper ambled to the kitchen, where June was just setting breakfast on the table.

A plate stacked high with golden-brown pancakes. June smiled as she looked up, seeing Harper entering the room. "Good, you're here. Breakfast is ready," she said. "I hope you like pancakes. I didn't put anything special in them. Well, maybe a little vanilla. Are you allergic to anything? I probably should've asked that sooner."

Harper shook her head, approaching the table. "Don't worry, I don't have any food allergies. And pancakes are great."

"Please, take a seat. How did you sleep?" June gestured to a chair, then sat in the one across from it, easing herself down onto the seat. Harper sat in the chair and scooted in. "Alright. The time zone difference is a little hard, though," she answered, calmly. "So...what does your day usually entail?" She'd asked purely out of curiosity. But June lit up none of the less, delighted in the simple interest the question required. She cracked a smile, readjusting her knit cap behind her ear.

"I read most days," June answered. Harper bobbed her head in a nod, loading a couple of pancakes onto her plate while she listened. "But, when I'm feeling skipper, I take a walk. Maybe lounge by the pool. What do you spend your time doing?"

Harper hummed, sitting back. "Work _usually_ keeps me busy. When I have free time I walk Darcy."

"That sounds very entertaining." June gave a small chuckle. The largest laugh the woman could manage, Harper assumed. She scooped up a fork full of pancake squares and devoured them. All the while, she couldn't help thinking. The thought pressing on her. Could this be what it would've been like had she never been given up? Her mother cooking breakfast for her, making small talk around the breakfast table? Had she been given this treat as a child, oh how her life would have been different.

After breakfast, June talked Harper into sitting on the back porch to drink lemonade and talk. So Harper sat in one of the lavender colored lounge chairs. Settling in with a sigh. June was walking through the sliding glass a moment late with a tray of glasses and a full pitcher. It teetered and wobbled. Noticing this, Harper quickly stood. "Here- let me help you with that," she offered, sliding a hand under the tray.

"Oh, thank you," June said. They set the tray on the glass circular table between the chairs. "I guess I still don't quite know my limits yet. I used to have a lot more energy—and strength, for that matter—when I was your age. Speaking of, how old are you now?"

Harper lifted the pitcher to fill the glasses. "Thirty-one."

"Well, you certainly don't look a day over twenty." Harper chuckled a little, under her breath, and handed a glass to June. June had just settled into her chair. She took the glass gratefully and Harper set the pitcher on the tray, sitting back down in her own seat. "So, what did you want to talk about?" Harper asked, lightly. June took a sip of her lemonade and put the glass on the tray, taking in a somewhat ragged breath. "There are some things you should know," June began.

She sat up a little in her chair, then bent to reach under the glass table. And only then did Harper notice the thin shoe box beneath in. Colored ocean blue with rips at every edge, stamps and stickers littering the lid. It had definitely seen better days. June set the box on the table top between them and carefully pried off the lid. "This has been my keepsake box, scrapbook—well, just about anything or everything I've ever done is in here," June continued. "Even a little family history. Some pictures left over from my mother. The family tree I made in fifth grade."

Harper edged onto the end of her chair, her hands in her lap. "That's...definitely a lot. How long have you had this?"

"Oh, since I was about...eight, I think," June replied. She rummaged through various items in the box to the bottom, pulling out a short stack of photos. Her frail fingers sifted the stack until she found one she wanted to show-and-tell. "Ah! Here it is. This is our family Christmas card photo from seventy-seven. I was twelve." She held up the picture and Harper's eyes scrutinized it. The family of four stood in front of a Christmas tree and fireplace.

The father wore glasses and a sweater vest, the mother a nice dress. And the two young girls in front of them wore matching clothes. Harper lifted a finger, aiming it at the two girls. "Who's the other girl?" she asked, curiously.

"That's your Aunt Carol, my sister. We were only twenty-two months apart so your grandmother thought we needed to wear matching clothes in every family photo," June recounted, thinking. "I believe she lives in Chicago now. Married some lawyer...I think by now they must have children. We had a falling out many years ago. I don't get much news from her anymore."

"Does she know about your health?" Harper inquired.

June hummed a moment. "She knows. She's probably just waiting for me to kick the bucket so she can rummage my belongings for any dollar value they might have."

"That's...cold."

"She was never the most caring sister. But she did a good job of making mom think she was, I'll give her that," June sifted through photos as she talked, stopping suddenly on another memory, pulling it from the stack. "Oh! And here's when I was in Grease. This was my theater group." She held up the picture for Harper to see, overly excited. A group of oddly dressed teens stood in front of a red backdrop, striking humorous poses.

It wasn't hard to spot June. She was the only one in a black getup with hoop earrings and puffed up blonde hair, right in front with an obvious male lead. "You were Sandy?" Harper chuckled, finding it hard to believe reality. June's small laugh was warm, comforting. "I wasn't _always_ bald, dear," she smiled. "I used to have hair just like yours. A little curlier, but close."

As they continued to riffle through memories, old photos of family events, Harper found herself questioning it all. June seemed like a nice woman. But this was a little odd. No, not odd. Sudden. They'd gone down memory lane for another twenty minutes before she'd gotten up the courage to ask. "Why are you showing me all this?" Harper questioned. June didn't look offended by the question. More like she'd expected it to come up.

She exhaled, readjusting in her chair as her face became somber. "Well...I won't be here much longer. I would like to pass these things on to you," she explained, calmly. "I want to keep them in the family. But, more importantly, I want them to go to your family—whatever that happens to be."

Harper raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. "What about Layla? Shouldn't she have this?"

"Layla was always her father's daughter. I lover her very much. But this belongs to you. Should you choose to get rid of them after I'm gone, that's alright, too," June nodded slowly. "I just need to know that you have them. Maybe it will...fill in some gaps? Answer some things I can't remember anymore?"

"I..." Harper found herself at a loss for words. It seemed all this woman wanted was to get her affairs in order and die. But that thought only brought sadness to the daughter that only just discovered the mother she'd never had. She dropped her face in her hands with a heavy, indecisive sigh. The second she takes that box. The second she says those forbidden three words. The second those things happen, then Harper is once again without family.

The one family member she's needed for her whole life. Harper lifted her head, swallowing down the lump in her throat. "I just met you, and...and all you want to do is leave me again," she said, bluntly. Letting out some of her anger at the situation. "Don't you want to live? Don't you want to meet your grandson? You could come back to Hawaii with me."

"Oh, honey...I'm much too sick for that. Dear, I- I made my peace with my fate. There's no getting better for me," June said, quietly, apologetically.

Harper sat back in her chair, looking away. "I just met you."

"I know. I wish we had more time to...to get to know each other. But that's why this box is so important. It's got my whole life in it. You can't help but get to know me looking through it," June pressed, a little more urgently. She leaned forward, placing her hand atop the only hand Harper had on the table, gaining her daughter's attention. "Please...take it with you. It's all I have to give."

"Okay. I'll take it," Harper nodded reluctantly.

June gave a small, bittersweet smile, sitting back in her chair. "Thank you."

"I forgive you," Harper blurted. She swiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Though, it was useless, given the others that followed. June was take aback. She hadn't expected to hear it at all, much less right then. Completely genuine. Harper stared at the woman a moment. Trying to regain her speech. She inhaled a shaky breath. "For leaving me, for not coming—for all of it. I forgive you."

"Sweetheart...come here." June stood, outstretching her shaky arms, and Harper practically ran into them. Clinging to the last bit of her mother inside that frail body, for she had no idea how long she'd be able to have it. She'd just released it. Given June the go-ahead to let go. Her life was complete now. Any second could be the end, Harper knew, and she would spend whatever time she had left with her being her daughter.


End file.
